


Thread of Gold

by doitsushine92



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, M/M, OT7 NCT Dream, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Romance, Secret Relationship, Unspecified Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27864589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doitsushine92/pseuds/doitsushine92
Summary: Jaemin scans Renjun's head and smiles a little. "You have all sorts of leaves stuck in your hair.""Pick them out, then," Renjun bites. It's all he can do to prevent himself from doing something incredibly stupid, like kissing Jaemin in the middle of the gardens.Jaemin's fingers pluck leaves and flowers from Renjun's hair. Renjun can tell he's refraining from making a comment on his disheveled state, and he appreciates it. Once he's satisfied with Renjun's appearance, he places the crown on his head."There," Jaemin says, stepping back. Renjun didn't realise he'd been holding his breath, too. "We must leave, now. Your future husband will be here soon."
Relationships: 7DREAM - Relationship, Huang Ren Jun/Mark Lee, Huang Ren Jun/Na Jaemin, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Lee Jeno, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Na Jaemin, Lee Jeno/Mark Lee, Mark Lee/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 52
Kudos: 217





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [princepixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/princepixel/gifts).



> here it is!!! this fic has been on the works since like. september??? i think?? 
> 
> i dedicate this to pix because they posted the pics that inspired this whole thing ❤ thank you for letting me use that for this fic, and for being such a wonderful amazing show stopping friend, this is all for you ❤❤❤ and im sorry i keep threatening to hurt the dreamies in this fic when you mildly incovenience me...... but it still stands i'm holding royalty chenle by the throat hehe
> 
> a huge shout out to rose for helping me beta, you're the best :(( and to bon for giving this a once over and telling me it's presentable and acceptable for society!!! i love you both a lot. i love all the jornies actually mwah i love you
> 
> finally, thank you to anyone that wishes to read this!! i promise the fluff and the romance and cuteness will be greater than the angst!!!
> 
> a few things worth mentioning!!   
> -. Homophobia?? Never heard of her
> 
> -. European royalty culture but it's never specified where it takes place 🤡 where or when so read this with an open mind and imagination!!!
> 
> -. Genetics who?? Jaemin has grey eyes and idc about how unrealistic that is

There is something oddly peaceful about the gardens during the autumn. Flowers continue to bloom on every bush and tree long into the season, with beds of roses and lilies littering the grass. The gardeners, per the Prince's instructions, cut the overgrown hedges into animal shapes, typically foxes, bunnies, and hamsters. Personal choice, if a little odd.

The gardens are open to the Castle staff to roam as they please. Since many live with their children in the staff quarters, it is not rare to see kids running around the more open areas, playing tag or hide and seek with each other. The Royal family has their private gardens, of course, but it is more common to see the Queen reading peacefully by the oak tree while the children scream than to see her in her personal greenhouse. The King is not one for nature if it does not involve hunting or fishing, however, and long ago he gave the Head Cook permission to turn his private garden into another orchard for the kitchen staff.

All through spring and summer, the Queen organises lunch parties and soirées in the gardens. In spite of having people at her disposal to do it, the Queen herself overlooks the planning for such occasions, from the themes to the color scheme, reviewing the menu with the Head Cook and personally writing the invitations. Her parties always turn her into the talk of the hour, spreading as far as three kingdoms beyond.

At the end of the garden, where most people do not venture due to too thick foliage, sits a pond. The water ripples softly under the sun, little fish swimming in and out of sight.

As if to protect the pond from intruders, the trees have grown over and around the water, creating a small dome to shield it from prying eyes. This, combined with the exterior wall, gives the impression that the pond doesn't exist within the Castle walls, but rather in a separate paradise.

Flowers decorate the space, fallen from the trees as well as rising from the cool dirt. A lone bench sits against the cement wall, covered in ivy.

This is Prince Renjun's personal, favourite spot. After discovering it as a child, he has come here nearly every day when he needs peace and quiet, a reprieve from his neverending duties. With his cape discarded on the ground to serve as a blanket if he wishes to sit, and his crown nowhere to be found, he looks more like the child of a servant than the future ruler of the land. Or, he would, if you were to look past the expensive clothing — the embroidered cape, the gold cufflinks on his shirt, and the tailored pants. A golden ring glints from the chain around his neck.

This is where Prince Renjun hides today. Na Jaemin, his Royal Highness' personal guard and servant, knows the pond is his best option if he wishes to find the Prince before he's late for the event. With his sword safely strapped to his side, he threads through the bushes and heaves a quiet sigh of relief when he finds Prince Renjun there, just as he hoped he would.

"Your Highness." Jaemin waits for Prince Renjun to look up from the pond, and frowns when the Prince only sighs and continues to trace shapes on the muddy earth. He's lying face down on the cape, close enough to the pond he could drink from its water if he wanted. Jaemin hopes he does not."My Lord," he tries again.

"Don't call me that," Prince Renjun murmurs. His fist props up his chin. "There's no one around, anyway."

Jaemin casts a look behind his shoulder, just in case. It's true — there's no one in the garden, save for them. Everyone's gone to the front entrance to the Castle, or inside, preparing for the feast.

"You're late," Jaemin says. "Prince Jeno's entourage will be arriving any second now."

"I don't want to go," Renjun says. His eyes stay trained on the water, his lips set in a pout Jaemin is all too familiar with.

"What are you doing here? Other than hiding," Jaemin smiles. He moves closer, until the pointy ends of his boots are inches from Renjun's royally handsome face. "You're getting your clothes dirty."

"They can be cleaned," Renjun shrugs. "And I'm sitting on the cape. It's alright."

"You haven't answered my question," Jaemin points out.

Renjun never answers it. Instead, his eyes zoom in on the object held in Jaemin's right hand and he raises an eyebrow. "Why do you have that?"

Jaemin lifts the crown. The diamonds glint under the delicate rays of sunshine that filter through the leaves. "You're supposed to wear this," he reminds him.

Another sigh. This time, Renjun stands up from the ground, patting his thighs to ensure he won't be carrying dirt all over the Castle. Normally, he wouldn't mind, but he's meeting Prince Jeno soon, and he should at least try to leave a good impression.

Jaemin kneels. He holds the crown above his head, presenting it to its rightful owner. Renjun makes an embarrassed sound and urges him to stand up, saying, "You don't have to follow protocol when it's just you and me."

"That only applies to royal titles and beating you at chess" Jaemin replies, not looking up, "Not this."

"Well," Renjun fumbles, "then you should know that it isn't proper for the Prince to put his crown on himself. You have to do it."

A beat of silence. Jaemin rises from his kneeling position and steps closer, his breath fanning over Renjun's face. He's taller than Renjun, now, unlike when they were kids, and Renjun has to tilt his head back to look him in the eyes.

Jaemin scans Renjun's head and smiles a little. "You have all sorts of leaves stuck in your hair."

"Pick them out, then," Renjun bites. It's all he can do to prevent himself from doing something incredibly stupid, like kissing Jaemin in the middle of the gardens.

Jaemin's fingers pluck leaves and flowers from Renjun's hair. Renjun can tell he's refraining from making a comment on his disheveled state, and he appreciates it. Once he's satisfied with Renjun's appearance, he places the crown on his head.

"There," Jaemin says, stepping back. Renjun didn't realise he'd been holding his breath, too. "We must leave, now. Your future husband will be here soon."

_**☆☆☆** _

There is no guarantee that Prince Jeno will be his future husband.

Renjun knows this better than anyone. The Prince is coming here to meet him, to spend time with him, and once he's gone, their parents will make the final decision. If it's a match, then they marry in December. If it isn't, there's nothing wrong with making a new friend.

This knowledge doesn't stop Renjun from fidgeting with the edges of his cape as he stands on the bottom step. It's a new one — a _clean_ one — that his mother had another servant fetch when she saw the dirt and leaves stuck to the original. This one is a little shorter, reaching below his knees, and the white fabric is light enough to wave in the wind.

Next to him, slightly behind, Jaemin stands guard. Unlike usual, he wears his uniform, prim and proper, his red cape too thick to budge with the breeze. Renjun can't remember a time when Jaemin wasn't around.

Just as he can't remember a time when Jisung wasn't in the crowd, waiting for them. Watching with earnest eyes as Renjun goes through formalities and responsibilities. Keeping guard over them, just the same.

The Castle staff bustles with energy today. They have been for the past three months, ever since the King announced the visit. The front gardens seem fit to burst if one more person tries to sneak into the crowd of onlookers — and, Renjun notes with no little amusement, Jisung seems three seconds away from stomping back inside, annoyed at the number of people with no sense of personal space.

Behind Renjun, the King and Queen wait at the top of the stairs. His mother was just as nervous as Renjun this morning, fleeting around the Castle at a speed never before recorded, making sure everything was in order. His father, on the other hand, hasn't shown a speck of worry.

Renjun glimpses the Royal carriage in the distance. So does the crowd, exploding into hushed murmurs. Renjun locks eyes with Jisung and is sure his grief is painstakingly clear, because Jisung's eyes widen further in empathy.

The trees sway with the wind. The sky is grey, the sun barely there to provide the feeblest warmth. Winter is near, Renjun thinks, and shivers. A servant offers a coat, Renjun nods, and allows Jaemin to lay the fabric over his shoulders. If Jaemin's fingers accidentally brush the bare skin of his neck, no one has to know.

The carriage passes the Castle gates. Renjun straightens his back, closes his eyes and breathes in, out, one more time. Jaemin's body heat seeps into his, even in the cold morning air. The trumpets go off, the carriage comes to a halt.

A servant rushes forward to open the door. Renjun feels his heart leap to his throat. The entire world seems to hold its breath.

A thick, blue cape. Black leather boots. Equally dark pants. A hand to provide balance as he steps out of the car. And then, Prince Jeno's face is on full display.

Renjun stops breathing.

Renjun already knew of Prince Jeno's reputation. Other monarchs have sought him before, hoping to join their kingdoms through marriage, to no avail. Most want the military backup Prince Jeno's kingdom would provide, while others have different intentions. Prince Jeno is known for his good looks — although Renjun always secretly believed his fame should have been for his military strategies — and it seems like such rumours were true, for once.

Hoping to be inconspicuous, Renjun's eyes roam over Jeno's face. Strong nose, sharp jaw, and kind, dark eyes. Long eyelashes, and pink lips. Renjun goes weak in the knees.

The rest of the entourage files in behind his carriage. There are only two more cars, one loaded with suitcases for his stay, and the other carries his small party — a chambermaid, his tutor, and a personal dresser.

Prince Jeno bows, and Renjun bows back as reflex. His mind runs five miles per hour, his thoughts getting away from him. His heartbeat slows and speeds up again, as if it can't decide if it wants to go on or not. The King claps his hands joyously and approaches the Prince. Renjun follows him, aware of Jaemin's careful steps behind him.

It would be a lie to say Renjun remembers what happens next. He vaguely registers they're introduced to each other, and Prince Jeno offers a smile, and Renjun hopes to God he leaves a good impression. He can't seem to stop staring, his hands clammy.

Anyone would think the King noticed his son's predicament and took pity on him, but the reality is that he always chatters like this, and everyone's attention is on him, talking about how glad he is they made it before the storm, and he hopes the Prince likes chicken stew, their cook's special.

As Prince Jeno assures him he loves chicken stew, a charming smile on his face, another boy steps out of the carriage. If Renjun is correct, this is Prince Jeno's personal servant. He knows he read his name in the notice sent ahead, but his mind has turned to mush. Faintly, he thinks he hears Jaemin suck in a breath.

Renjun wonders if that kingdom is full of good-looking people. Prince Jeno looks over his shoulder to check on his servant (perhaps making sure he has his feet firmly on the ground, as no one is there to help _him_ down) before he turns his attention back to the King, but Renjun's eyes stay on him.

He's sure those are star constellations on his face. Unlike the Prince, whose face is all sharp angles, the servant's cheeks are round, full. His lips are plump and cherry red. Brown hair curls over his ears and over his forehead.

The servant stands dutifully behind the Prince. Renjun's father rambles some more, until his mother joins the party. As always, her dress is impeccable, never dragging against the mud, and her makeup has remained intact all day. She lays a hand on her husband's arm, saying, "Darling, the poor things must be exhausted from the trip. Why don't we all go inside? Your chambers are ready," she adds to the Prince. "You may rest until lunchtime, if you like."

Prince Jeno bows to her, the servant bowing deeper. The trumpets play again, and the crowd begins to dissipate. Renjun catches a glimpse of Jisung scurrying back inside the Castle, and then Jaemin is stepping beside him.

"Your Royal Highness," Jaemin says. He bows curtly, back straight, perfect form. "Na Jaemin, his Royal Highness Prince Renjun's knight, at your service."

Prince Jeno's eyes crinkle in a smile, and wow. Renjun thinks he likes this grin better than the one he gave his mother.

"An honour," Prince Jeno nods, bowing as well.

Renjun is stuck staring, until the servant stands fully in front of Renjun to perform his introduction.

"Your Highness," he says, and it's a punch to Renjun's gut. His voice is soft, a little breathy, melodic. "Lee Donghyuck, Prince Jeno's personal right hand."

Interesting. Renjun doesn't ask about the strange title, opting instead to bow back and say, "It is an honour to meet you."

The four stand there. There is hardly anyone left, save for the servants lugging the Prince's belongings up the stairs, and a few other people going about their jobs. Renjun realises they're waiting for him to take the lead and resists the urge to kick himself in the shin.

Clearing his throat, Renjun cocks his head toward the Castle and says, "Shall we go inside? I can show you to your wing."

_Get your act together, Huang Renjun._

_**☆☆☆** _

The Huang Castle is large.

Donghyuck follows behind his Prince as they approach the wing prepared for them, watching with keen eyes everywhere they pass. The surfaces are squeaky clean, the vases and crystal chandeliers gleaming under the poor sunlight. Donghyuck is infinitely glad the storm hasn't reached them yet, and hopes against hope that it doesn't.

The trip from their kingdom to this one, under good weather, shouldn't take more than a week. Poor conditions, harsh storms and muddied roads, however, nearly doubled the time. Their entourage stopped more than once to wait for the hail to subside, much to Donghyuck's personal chagrin.

He has never been a fan of rain. Moreso, he is completely terrified of thunder and lightning bolts. Ever since he was a small child, he would hide under the covers until the Castle's walls stopped shaking. After he became the Prince's servant — and, oh, how he loathes that title —, he has had to endure several bouts of panic while keeping a straight face, be it during feasts or formal meetings.

(Jeno, bless his soul, understands. If it rains at night, he fetches Donghyuck from his bedchamber next to his own and distracts him with whatever lesson he has the next day. During the trip to the Huang kingdom, Jeno gripped his hand and gave Donghyuck the space to deal with his phobia, even if his hands turned white from how hard Donghyuck held them.)

Donghyuck, as usual, stays a step and a half behind his Prince. The Prince makes small talk with Prince Renjun, awkward yet polite, and Donghyuck uses the walk to become accustomed to their new surroundings. They will be living here for three months, after all. He takes special care in learning the route to and from the wing that has been specially prepared for them, in spite of only being five people that came on this trip. It seems excessive, but Donghyuck won't complain about the extra privacy. Certainly not.

Tall columns stretch from the floor to vaulted ceilings. A grand majority of the Castle is white, from the structure to the tapestry, which makes every drop of colour stand out much more. They walk past large windows overlooking a garden, and the hallway feels endless. As if their wing is a separate building from the rest of the Castle.

As they approach the double doors that presumably lead to their wing, Prince Renjun's guard, Jaemin, walks ahead to hold the doors open for them. Both Princes bow in gratitude, and Donghyuck tips his head. Jaemin tips his own in return, not a hint of surprise at Donghyuck's lack of manners, and Donghyuck grins internally. He likes this one, already.

They pass in front of a large living area, where their tutor is already setting up their study space. The Duke insisted on coming along personally, allegedly not trusting the Prince (nor Donghyuck) to continue their studies if they weren't supervised. Which, Donghyuck will admit, has some truth to it. They aren't exactly responsible when left to their own devices.

Ahead, his Prince's chambermaid exits what Donghyuck assumes will be His Royal Highness' bedchamber. Lucy wipes her apron of invisible dust and bows to her waist when they walk past, Prince Jeno thanking her for her hard work before walking in. The bedroom is, of course, grand and fancy. Donghyuck wouldn't have expected anything else.

As Prince Renjun says something about the gardens being open to anyone, Donghyuck inspects the room. The bed is big, the sheets silky, and the windows are far enough from the bed that his Prince will have guaranteed privacy during the night. Lucy has already unpacked most of Prince Jeno's belongings, save for the two bags that he insisted were private.

While he continues to snoop, someone clears their throat behind him. Jaemin is watching him, and irrationally, Donghyuck feels a little like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yes?" He blinks innocently.

"I assure you, the room is perfectly adequate. There is no need to… inspect." Jaemin speaks softly, perhaps not wanting to be overheard by the royals in the room.

"Oh, I am sure it is," Donghyuck says, smiles, "But, what kind of right hand would I be, if I did not make sure?"

It lasts a split second, and Donghyuck could be imagining things, but he is certain Jaemin's eyes flickered below his eyes before he looked away. Strange, he thinks.

Regardless of what he may or may not have seen, Donghyuck decides it is time to rejoin his Prince. Prince Renjun is telling him that the feast will begin at six o'clock, and that a guard will come fetch him beforehand.

"If you need anything, I will be in the library until five," Prince Renjun says. If Donghyuck is not mistaken, there is a high blush on his cheeks. He resists the urge to smile. "I have French lessons, and Jaemin is typically with me, but you can send a guard or a maid for me."

"Vous parlez français ?" Prince Jeno asks.

Prince Renjun's eyes light up in excitement. "Oui ! Nous étudions ensemble depuis que nous avions dix ans !"

"Ah, nous faisons la même chose," Prince Jeno says. "Votre prononciation est très fantastique," he adds. Donghyuck almost scoffs at his Prince's flirting techniques if it were not true; Prince Renjun's accent is lovely. Certainly better than Donghyuck's, who constantly avoids speaking French to avoid making a fool of himself. He only ever speaks it if Prince Jeno asks him personally.

"Je te remercie," Prince Renjun smiles, and he looks shy.

There is a moment of silence in the room, during which Prince Renjun firmly looks anywhere but at Prince Jeno, Donghyuck watches the red climb to his ears, his Prince smiles as if he knows what he has done, and Jaemin stands behind Prince Renjun, assessing the situation.

Finally, Prince Renjun coughs politely and excuses himself, bowing and making his retreat, his knight in tow. Donghyuck is sure he would have run away if it had not been rude.

Alone, Donghyuck shoves his Prince lightly. Jeno smiles wider and says, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You've known him for less than an hour and yet you're already flirting," Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

Jeno's eyes are full of mischief as he says, "Are you jealous?"

"No," Donghyuck scoffs. _Yes,_ he thinks. "I just think you should take it slow. Don't scare him off."

"You're right." Jeno steps around him and goes for the dresser, riffling through the clothes. That is Donghyuck's job, but they have never cared much for formalities when it is just the two of them. "You should help me pick something for tonight's dinner."

Donghyuck's breath hitches. Jeno looks over his shoulder, deft fingers undoing the knots on his shirt, jacket discarded on the ground, and Donghyuck's stomach coils in want.

"Of course," Donghyuck rasps. He ignores Jeno's amused smirk in favour of doing his job. It is not proper for a Prince to undress himself, after all.

It's hard to ignore Jeno's gaze. Or the god-awful way he smiles when Donghyuck unbuckles his belt. This isn't in Donghyuck's job description (it isn't even _Jungwoo's_ , and he's the one in charge of making sure Jeno looks his best every day of his life,) but it's a game. A game Donghyuck is damn good at, and one he isn't about to forfeit to his Prince.

Donghyuck holds eye contact with Jeno while undoing the Prince's pants. Once that's done, he bites out, "I will draw your bath, your Highness."

"Thank you," Jeno says, still smirking, eyes dropping to Donghyuck's lips.

Donghyuck's hands creep around Jeno's waist. He feels fingers trail up his spine, Jeno's warmth searing into his skin through his shirt. Jeno rubs his back with enough pressure that Donghyuck is pushed into his space, and Jeno's unfastened belt presses into his hip. Among other things.

_**☆☆☆** _

"Finish these worksheets," Lord Nakamoto says, "And you are free to go."

Renjun looks at the French papers laid in front of him on the table and then back at the Earl. Lord Nakamoto only smiles and tilts his head, as if wondering why the Prince would be looking at him like that.

"These are…" Renjun raises an eyebrow. "Are you aware we have a feast in less than two hours? And that I must go bathe, shower, dress…?"

"Yes," the Lord smiles further, "And, if you would have come to class this morning instead of hiding, you wouldn't be here now."

Renjun licks his teeth in annoyance. He knows better than to argue with the lord, however, and so he nods in understanding. Lord Nakamoto nods back, wishes them luck, and goes to his desk on the other side of the room. Renjun sees him pick up a book, lean back on his chair, and promptly put the open book over his face.

Before Renjun can throw a tantrum, Jaemin takes his share of the assignment and says, "Come on, we should get started."

Renjun sighs, picking up his quill. "Alright. Can you read the first question for me?"

Jaemin's accent is thick, a testament to how little he practices it. It is not fair that his grammar would still be better than Renjun's, but life is not fair. At least, Renjun picks up vocabulary much faster than he does.

They work together in silence, for the most part. Jaemin will ask Renjun about a certain word sometimes, or Renjun will ask for confirmation regarding a tense. Lord Nakamoto appears to be very close to snoring, and the clock on the table ticks close to five in the evening.

"What did you think of the Prince?" Jaemin asks. Not exactly a conversation Renjun would have in public, but they are alone in the library. Everyone else has gone to prepare for the feast.

Renjun wets his quill in the inkwell, mulling over his words. Jaemin's eyes are heavy, and they make thinking more difficult than should be.

"He's polite," Renjun answers carefully, "and his military tactics are admirable. He didn't bring an entire castle with him, which shows he doesn't care for grand displays of wealth." Quieter, feeling pink spread to his cheeks, he says, "He's handsome,"

When Jaemin fails to answer, Renjun looks up and finds they are much closer than he thought. They usually sit thigh to thigh, today no exception, but Jaemin's face is close enough to his that Renjun could count his eyelashes if he so desired. His gaze is too intense for Renjun to hold, and the Prince looks away quickly.

Jaemin hums and turns away, as well. Renjun watches him carefully write his answer on the parchment, a blob of ink dotting the end of his cursive letters. Behind them, the sun dips lower in the sky.

"And his servant?"

Renjun blinks out of his daze. "His right hand," he corrects absentmindedly. He's watching Jaemin's fingers curl around the quill.

"His _servant_ ," Jaemin says.

"He introduced himself as his right hand," Renjun insists, "and the Prince didn't correct him. I think we should respect that."

Jaemin remains silent for a few seconds. Eventually, he nods, although he doesn't seem convinced. "Alright. What did you think of the Prince's right hand?"

Renjun spares another glance in Lord Nakamoto's direction. He is definitely snoring.

"He's pretty," Renjun confesses. "He's very pretty."

"Is that all you noticed about him?" Jaemin prods.

Renjun furrows his eyebrows. Warm sunlight casts a halo around Jaemin's figure. Renjun has to make the effort to tear his eyes away from Jaemin's tousled locks.

"He hunches?" Renjun tries.

Jaemin doesn't appear pleased and Renjun's frown furthers. He knows they should be heading back to Renjun's chambers, so that Renjun can prepare for the feast, and Jaemin will need a handful of extra minutes to get ready as well. However, Jaemin's clear restlessness shoves all that to the back of his mind.

"Is something wrong?" Renjun asks. "Did something happen? I saw the two of you talk, did he say anything to you?"

"No," Jaemin shakes his head, "he didn't say anything."

"Then, what is the matter?"

"Nothing." Jaemin smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Perhaps it is because they are alone — Lord Nakamoto continues to sleep peacefully by his desk — but Renjun clutches Jaemin's hand with urgency. His fingers are long, his skin soft, nails clipped short, and he's warm. It sends a tingle of electricity up his arm.

"Jaemin, is there anything I should know?"

Renjun doesn't like Jaemin's conflicted expression. Unease settles in his tummy and he grips Jaemin's fingers tighter, hoping it will force the answer out of him.

His knight slips away from his grasp, straightening in his seat. Renjun misses the proximity, the warmth that Jaemin gives, but he sits up as well.

"I was just curious," Jaemin shrugs. Renjun knows him well enough to know he isn't being entirely truthful, and normally he would pester him until he confessed whatever is on his mind. Tonight, however, he doesn't have the luxury of time.

The double doors open and in scurries a servant, miffed. "Your Majesty, are you not done yet? The feast will start soon!"

"I am aware," Renjun sighs. "Lord Nakamoto assigned us a lot of work."

The servant purses her lips. "It does not matter now. Come on, hurry!"

Renjun casts a look at his coursework. They weren’t even halfway finished. Jaemin makes the decision for them both, rolling up the scrolls neatly and storing them in the drawers. He covers the inkwell and leaves the quills to dry, standing from his seat.

"I will escort his Majesty to his chambers," he says to the servant. After she has left, — stopping momentarily to shake the Earl awake — Jaemin pulls Renjun's chair out and helps him stand, unnecessarily so. Renjun doesn't need help to stand up, much less in private, but the action still makes his heart flutter.

The Earl exits first. He sends Renjun a faux stink look, as if aware they did not finish their coursework, but there's nothing he can do about it. Renjun leads the way out of the library and toward his chambers, Jaemin always a step behind him.

"Are you nervous?" Jaemin asks. They are in Renjun's private wing, approaching his chambers.

Renjun shakes his head. "No. Well, yes," he considers, "I suppose I am. We met the Prince already, I don't understand why I feel so… so _tingly_."

Renjun doesn't notice he said _we_ instead of _I_ until Jaemin takes too long to respond and he cranes his neck to look at him. Jaemin is staring at him with an inexplicable expression.

"Jaemin, I am going to ask again: is there anything I should know?" Renjun presses.

Jaemin hesitates. " _If_ there is something you should know, then I will tell you. I promise."

_**☆☆☆** _

The servants did an excellent job at decorating the Grand Hall for tonight's feast. It took them no less than a week to clean every nook and cranny, and then two more weeks to hang up the candles on the highest shelves, to drape the marble columns with thick, golden curtains, and to choose the perfect cutlery.

It began to rain approximately half an hour before the feast began. It started as mere drops of water, increasing in tempo until the sky turned dark. The sun should still be out at this hour, yet only grey clouds can be seen through the windows.

The whole room is lit in gold, the chandeliers casting a hue over the attendants' faces. The tables have been placed in a circle that surrounds the dance floor, each with seven chairs. A band plays from the corner of the room while the guests dance, and the servants wade through the crowd with trays full of champagne and finger food.

The King and Queen have their thrones on a raised stage, though they walk and chat to their leisure. Their table is private, save for a special guest or two — even their son will sit at a different table, on the other side of the hall. Queen Chengxiao's dress, lace pink, catches the eyes of everyone she crosses path with. King Junhui matches her in colour and fabric, though his suit uses more silk than lace.

Renjun scans the crowd in search of Jisung. He knows the boy is here, hidden somewhere, because Renjun made sure of it. It took him a while to sneak all the pieces into his room, but Renjun ensured Jisung would have the best outfit for the feast. Jaemin helped, because he knew how much it meant for Renjun that Jisung was there, and because he also knew Jisung would never accept the clothes from Renjun himself.

"Your Highness," Jaemin speaks, close enough to his ear that Renjun can feel his breath on his neck, "Prince Jeno has entered the hall."

"I can't find Jisung." Renjun spins around and Jaemin takes an immediate step back. His hands, as usual, are clasped behind his back. Always close, but not close enough to touch. "Have you seen him?"

Jaemin peers over Renjun's head. "No. I will look for him, if you wish."

"Please, do," Renjun nods. Jaemin meets his eyes, nods back. Renjun is sure he catches him licking his lips before he turns away.

"If you will follow me," Jaemin says, "I will lead you to Prince Jeno."

The crowd parts for Renjun. Jaemin guides him through the throng of people, muttering _excuse me_ and _the Prince is coming through._ Renjun nods in greeting to those he sees, but keeps his eyes ahead for the most part — it just so happens that Jaemin's broad shoulders and regal back are right in front of him.

Jaemin, as the rest of the Castle staff, has a special uniform that he wears for holidays and parties. Similar to his usual getup, he wears tailored black pants, a white dress shirt, and a jacket. Unlike usual, the jacket is a burgundy red, embroidered with white lace along the sleeves, the collar, and the bottom of the back. His sword, as always, hangs from his waist.

It is a beautiful jacket, one Renjun ordered himself. He gave it to Jaemin as a birthday gift, two years ago, but he has not had the chance to see him wear it on more than two occasions. Renjun is glad to see it still fits — it hugs Jaemin's shoulders and waist like a glove.

Minghao chose something simple for Renjun tonight, perhaps because he knew Renjun didn't want to have everyone staring at him — even more so than usual. Minghao dressed him in an all-white ensemble, with red accents to bring some colour to the outfit, and white fishnets that reach above his fingertips. Renjun tries not to think too much about how he and Jaemin match. His crown is safely secured on his head.

Prince Jeno is standing toward the back of the hall, by the desserts table. Donghyuck is right next to him, not that Renjun is surprised. Renjun suspects that, as Jaemin and him, they don't separate for much.

He wonders what that means for them.

All thoughts of speculation banish from his mind as soon as Renjun sees what the Prince is wearing, however.

Blue is Prince Jeno's colour, clearly. His navy blue jacket brings out the brown of his eyes, and the pins and badges on his chest glint under the light of the candles. Renjun would feel inadequate next to him, knowing he doesn't have any kind of military achievement under his own belt, but he can't think past the sight of Jeno's blond hair perfectly coiffed away from his forehead, and his crown sits perfectly on his head.

Renjun shifts his gaze to Donghyuck, in hopes of regaining his breath. It proves to be futile very quickly, because Donghyuck also looks breathtaking. While dressed simply, a white dress shirt and pants, his rosy cheeks and light brown hair make him stand out. If Renjun looks closely, he can spot the faintest glimmer on his lips.

He wonders, again, what it means that Prince Jeno sports the same gloss.

"Your Highness," Jaemin bows, "Mr. Lee."

The Prince bows back, his right hand doing as well. Renjun steps out from behind Jaemin and exchanges pleasantries, offering a curt bow.

"This is a lovely feast," Prince Jeno says to Renjun with a kind smile. "It must have taken a lot of effort to prepare all this."

"It did. Our staff is excellent, and it seems their hard work paid off." Renjun is not saying this just because, either; he knows how hard everyone worked in preparation for tonight.

A few ladies in waiting approach the table, drinks in hand. Renjun's cousin is one of them, and he nods to her before they leave. He's sure the girls were looking at Prince Jeno, giggling among themselves, and it is to be expected. What he did not expect was for them to gossip about Donghyuck, as well. Lady Hyunjin's eyes lingered on Donghyuck before she allowed Kahei to take her away.

"I must say," Renjun is speaking before he knows it, "You look… very handsome tonight, Donghyuck."

The words are out of his mouth without his consent. Renjun feels himself grow faint as the realisation sinks in, and he prays his face doesn't show the mortification he feels.

Donghyuck appears shocked. Prince Jeno's eyebrows are high on his forehead. Renjun can't see Jaemin's face, but he suspects he's just as surprised. Outside the Castle, thunder rumbles.

"Thank you," Donghyuck stutters once he regains his bearings.

Before the silence can continue to stretch, Jaemin clears his throat politely. "Your Highness, would you like a drink? I can fetch something for you."

"Yes, please," Renjun sighs. "And do the thing I asked you to do, as well, please."

His relief doesn't last long, because soon he realises Jaemin will have to leave him to find his drink, and that is the last thing Renjun wants.

"Would you like something, Your Highness?" Donghyuck asks Prince Jeno.

Prince Jeno nods, asking for champagne before the two disappear into the swarm of people.

"I apologise," Renjun moves closer, "for that comment I made earlier. It was out of line."

Prince Jeno looks at him funny. "Why? You didn't say any lies."

Renjun flounders. Prince Jeno appears sincere, picking up a pastry from the table and offering it to Renjun before taking one for himself.

"Well," Renjun says, "It was inappropriate."

"Why?" Prince Jeno repeats. "I didn't think it inappropriate. And I doubt he did, either. Donghyuck does look handsome, and he should hear it from someone other than me."

"You told him?" Renjun asks. He doesn't mean to sound quite so surprised, and he worries this will offend Prince Jeno.

His worries are for nothing. The Prince nods, easy as that, and says, "Yes. As we came here from my wing, I told him he looked well."

Renjun feels his cheeks redden. He doesn't understand why, if the Prince didn't say anything about him, or anything that should warrant embarrassment.

"Did I," Renjun hesitates, changes routes mid-sentence, "You two were wearing the same lip gloss?"

_Shut up, Renjun._

Prince Jeno falters momentarily, blinking in confusion. "We are, yes. Is that a problem?"

"No," Renjun assures him, "It isn't, not at all. I was just wondering."

Prince Jeno watches him a second longer and finally brings the little cake to his mouth. Some sugar clings to his lips and the corners of his mouth before he licks it away. Renjun drags his eyes to look at the guests instead.

Not far from them, Jaemin and Donghyuck are talking to the servants, close to the kitchen access. Renjun has walked down that hall before — mostly when he was a child, playing hide and seek with Jaemin and Jisung, and he thinks he could still navigate the hidden passages of the Castle, if he wanted to. The access isn't easy to spot; a door built into the wall, opens only if you press on a specific spot from the side of the hall or by pushing on the handle from the inside.

"If I may," Prince Jeno begins to say. Renjun redirects his gaze to him, knowing it would be impolite not to, even if every cell in his body thrums each time he lays eyes on him. The Prince never gets the chance to finish his sentence, though.

The royal trumpets go off. Renjun stands to attention at once, going as far as to tiptoe to see over the crowd, but he doesn't know what the commotion is about. No one seems to know, either, since the guests begin to whisper among themselves.

He spots his mother sashaying toward him — she doesn't run, not in front of anyone that doesn't live at the Castle — with a harried yet strangely gleeful expression.

"Your Highness," she bows to Prince Jeno, a glossy smile perfectly in place, "I apologize, but I must borrow my son."

"Is everything alright?" Renjun asks her.

Queen Chengxiao turns her smile to him. "Yes, it is. You remember Prince Mark, the youngest brother of King Johnny?"

Renjun nods. "Yes, he is coming in three weeks."

Queen Chengxiao shakes her head, smiling. "He's here," the Queen corrects him.

_**☆☆☆** _

"According to Mr. Lim, they were in a nearby city when they saw the storm ahead. They were meant to visit another kingdom, but ours was closer. The poor things were caught in the storm!"

"Oh." Renjun doesn't know how to react. Next to him, Prince Jeno has gone strangely quiet.

Oblivious, the Queen grins at them both. "Yes, well, Mr. Lim has taken the Prince and his companions to their wing to dry off. They should be done in time for dinner."

With that, Queen Chengxiao dismisses herself, chattering about finding the King to greet Prince Mark's tutor and guardian.

Renjun exhales once she has disappeared into the crowd. Jaemin and Donghyuck return to them, and Renjun smiles when he sees Jisung close behind.

"Did something happen?" Jaemin asks, as polite as ever. He hands Renjun a glass of champagne, and Donghyuck does the same to Jeno.

Instead of answering right away, Renjun peeks around Jaemin's broad back. "Hello, Jisung. I'm glad to see you made it."

Jisung, as he often does when in public, resembles a small child in the way he shies away from their attention.

"You insisted, Your Highness," Jisung says, polite as ever. In public or in private, it doesn't matter, Jisung is the same.

"Jisung, I want you to meet Prince Jeno," Renjun introduces, "and his right hand, Lee Donghyuck."

Renjun feels Donghyuck's surprised gaze on him. He suspects not everyone respects his preferred title.

"Your Highness, Mr. Lee, Jisung is the son of the Castle's head chef."

They exchange pleasantries. Renjun is delighted to see that, while proper, Jisung doesn't back away from conversation with the noble or his companion.

Renjun forces three pastries in Jisung's hand, watching him like a hawk until he's eaten them, and then does the same to Jaemin. He knows Jaemin would eat something at some point, but Renjun would rather he does it while socialising instead of hiding with Jisung and other staff members behind the pillars.

"Prince Mark arrived early," Renjun tells Jaemin and Jisung. "That is why they played the trumpets."

Behind Prince Jeno, Donghyuck chokes on his champagne. The Prince pats his back, stoic once again.

"Have you met the Prince?" Renjun asks, because he isn't blind. Each time the royal is brought up, Prince Jeno reacts much the same.

Donghyuck clears his throat. Prince Jeno nods, "We have. In the past."

_**☆☆☆** _

Prince Mark, per Queen Chengxiao's insistence, sits at the same table as Prince Renjun, Prince Jeno, their personal servants, and Jisung.

Renjun knows it is considered rude to avoid eye contact with your guests, especially for a Prince, but he doesn't understand where the awkward atmosphere comes from, and he doesn't know how to dissipate it, either.

It must be because of their reasons to be here, Renjun reasons with himself. After all, both Princes are here with the intention of winning his favour, and earning an engagement with him.

But, if it were so, wouldn't they at least attempt conversation with him?

That was Prince Jeno's approach earlier. Right until the moment Prince Mark's arrival was announced, Prince Jeno had been nothing but polite, amiable, kind. But since Prince Mark entered the Hall, he had quietened down.

Prince Mark had been polite, too, when they were introduced. He smiled, bowed, complimented his mother on her dress, and chatted with Jaemin, even. He also introduced them to his companion, a boy named Chenle, calling him his best friend with a proud smile.

Renjun liked that.

However, things are silent now. Their table is the only table in the entire Hall that isn't alive with chatter.

He's the host, Renjun thinks. He should make conversation with his guests, not the other way around. With newly formed determination, Renjun clears his throat politely.

"Prince Mark," he calls for him, "I hope your trip wasn't too eventful. The storm didn't cause you any trouble?"

The Prince smiles, as charming as earlier, and Renjun hopes he doesn't stare at his teeth. Not for the first time since they sat down, Renjun wishes Jaemin had sat at his right, and not him, because Prince Mark is very handsome up close.

"It was alright, thank you. I'm glad we arrived when we did, otherwise we would have been caught in the storm."

"We almost were, too," Donghyuck pipes up, uncertainly. Though it doesn't appear he worries about Prince Jeno being upset at his input.

In fact, Renjun would think he's expecting Prince _Mark's_ reaction at his voice.

"It doesn't seem as if it will go away, soon, either," Prince Mark agrees.

Donghyuck blinks, his surprise clear on his face before he schools his expression back into something more neutral, and he drops Prince Mark's gaze as if burnt.

Renjun makes eye contact with Jaemin, begging him silently to participate in the conversation before it dies for good.

"Are you enjoying the cake?" Jaemin asks the table at large.

Prince Jeno nods, humming. "I am, in fact. These are very good, remind me to send my compliments to the chef."

"Why don't you do it now?" Renjun grins, patting Jisung in the back softly. "He's right here."

Jisung blushes every shade of red there is as the attention shifts to him, but he doesn't hide.

"You baked these?" Chenle asks, kindly yet excited.

"Yes, I did. I help in the kitchen, sometimes," Jisung replies, bowing his head just so.

"You have talent," Donghyuck compliments him.

Again, Jisung's face flushes crimson, and he stumbles through a thank you. Renjun wishes he would gain some confidence in his cooking, because Donghyuck is right — Jisung has _talent_ in the kitchen, no matter what he sets out to cook or bake.

Donghyuck, sitting on Jisung's other side, engages him in casual conversation about cooking, baking, and whatnot. Prince Jeno joins in sometimes, mostly to give his input about certain dishes, and Jisung grins wider than he has all night when the Prince insists he has to cook for him, some time.

On the opposite side of the table, Jaemin has somehow roped Chenle into small talk, asking about his kingdom, both of them laughing softly.

Which leaves Renjun alone with Prince Mark.

"Your Highness," Prince Mark says, catching his attention. "I do apologize for our abrupt arrival. We would have come as we originally planned, but the situation was out of our hands."

"Oh," Renjun's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "No, not at all. It isn't a problem. And, please, there's no need to be so formal — you can call me Renjun, if it's just us," he says, vaguely motioning to the table.

Prince Mark grins again, and it's less fabricated this time, but just as beautiful. "Very well. You can call me Mark, in that case."

Renjun smiles back at Mark. Their conversation stops momentarily as the servants come by the table to take away their empty plates, refilling their champagne glasses and asking if anyone would like tea.

"May I ask," Renjun tries once they're alone once more — well, alone is a relative term. "How did you know Prince Jeno?"

"Prince Jeno?" Mark echoes, quietly. "He told you we've met?"

"Yes. He said you met briefly," Renjun frowns, confused by Mark's strange reaction to his question. "I'm sorry, if it's personal, you don't have to tell me."

Instead of doing the polite thing — deny it, or insist that it isn't a problem at all — Mark offers him a tight lipped smile and says, "Thank you. It is personal, but I will tell you some other time. Just… not now."

"Of course," Renjun nods, feeling silly. "Tell me, I hear your kingdom trades iron with your neighbors for potatoes?"

It isn't the most riveting topic of conversation, but it's safe. Mark speaks proudly of his kingdom, and he's clearly invested in the political aspects of his life, because he goes on about their trading deals for a good five minutes.

In turn, he asks Renjun about their fabrics, the trading of clothes, about their famous orchestra and their educational system. Renjun never met a noble so interested in such topics — most of them are more likely to ask about military training and farming.

Renjun doesn't realise how much time has passed, until his mother takes over the stage where the band was playing a second ago.

"Good evening, hello," she says, loudly, yet she still manages to sound elegant. "Thank you all very much for coming tonight, everyone. I cannot tell you how happy it makes us."

On cue, Renjun glances toward his father where he sits. King Junhui raises his glass, but offers no comment. Typical of him, so it isn't as if anyone is bothered by his lack of response.

His mother drones for a few more minutes. There's a lot of gratitude for everyone's presence, promises about the new orphanage, words of encouragement to everyone involved in charity work, and then she urges them to enjoy the rest of the evening.

"You'll have to excuse my mother," Renjun laughs breathlessly, speaking to all the boys at his table. "She can be overenthusiastic about the littlest things."

"She's involved in a lot of things with your people," Donghyuck notes, smiling. "That must be fun."

"Her Royal Majesty likes to spend her time with the subjects," Jaemin nods, a hint of a smile on his face as well. "I don't think she spends as much time at the Castle as she does at the school or the orphanage."

The rest of the night passes before Renjun can blink. Soon, Mark is retiring for the night, apologetic about their departure as he gently drags Chenle away.

"We had a long trip," Mark says.

Renjun reassures him it isn't a problem at all, and after he's gone from his line of vision, he asks Prince Jeno, "Aren't you two tired? You don't have to hang around for our sake."

Prince Jeno and Donghyuck have a silent conversation with their eyes. Renjun smiles at the intimacy such action requires.

"If it wouldn't be impolite," Prince Jeno says softly, "I think we would like to go to sleep. We will see you in the morning?"

"Of course," Renjun smiles. "We can all have breakfast together."

With that, they leave the table as well. Renjun looks at Jaemin and Jisung, notes their tired expressions, and smiles at them. "Let's get out of here?"

☆☆☆

Jeno grunts, shoving Donghyuck's hips down on the bed. "Stop moving, you'll hurt yourself."

Donghyuck, shameless at this point, whines. It's cute, if Jeno admits it to himself, and he drops a kiss below Donghyuck's jaw to reward him when he finally settles down.

They weren't planning on this happening tonight, and they didn't have much oil left. They made do with what they had, and Donghyuck has yet to complain again (he gasped when Jeno began to open him up, his knuckles going white from his grip on the sheets, and Jeno definitely saw tears in his eyes), but Jeno still worries. The very last thing he ever wants is to hurt him.

After maybe five minutes of Jeno kissing lightly over Donghyuck's shoulder, listening closely to Donghyuck's little noises, he deems him ready. Jeno pulls his hips back, his cock dragging against Donghyuck's walls, and thrusts back in. Donghyuck moans, loud enough that Jeno panics and clamps a hand over his mouth.

"Be quiet," Jeno hushes him. "Do you want someone to hear?"

Donghyuck blushes. Jeno relaxes his grip, moving his hand to the side of Donghyuck's head to hold himself up, his left hand hiking Donghyuck's thigh higher on Jeno's hip.

"Jeno," Donghyuck gasps, scrambling to hold onto Jeno's shoulder. "Slow down."

"Are you okay?" Jeno asks, checking to see if Donghyuck's hurt, or worse, bleeding.

"Yes, yes, I'm okay, just," Donghyuck nods, blinking back a tear or two. "This might be the last time."

Jeno's heart aches at his words. This isn't something Jeno wishes to talk about, not now, but he complies, slowing down his thrusts so that Donghyuck feels every inch of him sliding in and out.

"It won't be," Jeno promises him, dropping a kiss on Donghyuck's pouty lips. "It won't be the last time, I promise."

Donghyuck holds him where he is, kissing him back. Jeno grips his thigh, hard enough to bruise, and swallows every one of his moans, every breathy noise Donghyuck makes, offering his own in return.

They're getting closer to climax. Donghyuck is becoming louder, and so is Jeno, his thrusts faltering, the headboard creaking as he loses control of his movements and speeds up.

And then the doors to his chambers are thrown open, banging against the wall, and Na Jaemin's voice breaks through the haze in Jeno's mind.

"You must be kidding me."

Jeno doesn't think he's ever moved away from Donghyuck so quickly in his life.

Standing in the room, livid as Jeno has seen anyone, is Prince Renjun's knight. Jeno scrambles back, hastily throwing a bed sheet over his lap as Donghyuck covers himself with another one.

"Jaemin," Jeno starts, "I can explain."

"I hope you do," Jaemin says, and he sounds furious, his grey eyes ablaze with a fire like Jeno hasn't seen in anyone before, "Because you will have to explain this to his Highness."

"No!" It's Donghyuck, this time, alarmed — for good reason. "Please, his Highness can't know."

"Your little Prince here," Jaemin points at Jeno, his eyes boring into Donghyuck's own, "is supposed to marry my liege."

"That isn't certain, yet," Jeno cuts in. "He hasn't decided."

Jaemin scoffs, looking away from both of them. "If Renjun chooses you," he says to Jeno, "Then this has to stop."

"We know," Jeno replies sharply. "Believe me, we know."

For the first time since he broke into his room, Jaemin seems to stop and really look at them. Jeno remembers they're very much naked, both their chests and navels covered in bite marks and hickeys, and he pulls the bed sheet higher.

Finally, Jaemin tears his gaze away, looking at the windows instead. It's still raining.

"Renjun can never know about this," he warns them. It isn't as heated as earlier.

"He won't find out from us," Donghyuck says.

With a shake of his head, Jaemin leaves. Once Jeno hears the click of the door, he stands up and rushes to lock it — he should've done that before, maybe.

"Oh, Lord," Donghyuck groans, dropping his head into his hands. "He knows. Jeno, he _knows."_

"I know," Jeno nods, returning to bed. He picks their pants off the floor on his way, then thinks better of it and grabs two pajamas from the wardrobe.

Donghyuck redresses in record time, mortified. Jeno, in spite of the circumstances, has to drag his eyes away from the marks he left on the inside of his thighs.

"What are we going to do?" Donghyuck asks. Jeno hates how small and scared he sounds.

Jeno joins him on the bed, though he removes the soiled sheets first. He balls them up and drops them on the ground, thinking he'll worry about it later.

"We're going to do what we always do," Jeno says, dragging Donghyuck closer to his side. "We keep a low profile. We have to be careful, more than usual. But we're going to be alright."

"You don't know that," Donghyuck argues.

"I don't," Jeno agrees, "But I hope that it's true."

"This is a nightmare." Donghyuck's voice catches on a sob.

Jeno pulls away, just enough so he can wipe the tears from his face. "I'm not letting anything happen to you, alright? Don't worry about it."

"What about you?" Donghyuck insists. "If word gets out that you're screwing your servant —"

"Don't say it like that," Jeno interrupts. "How many times have I told you? You're more than a screw, and you know it." At least, Jeno hopes he knows it.

"I should go back to my room," Donghyuck says, already moving away.

Jeno stops him, though, gripping his arm. "Stay the night. Please," he insists when he sees Donghyuck's about to decline.

"We can't get caught," Donghyuck whispers.

"We won't," Jeno says, "I'll wake you early so you can sneak back. I don't want to spend the night alone."

If there's a benefit to any of this, it's that Donghyuck can't say no to Jeno — or vice versa. Donghyuck caves, crawling under the comforter and settling next to Jeno. He lays his head on Jeno's shoulder, hiding his face in the crook of his neck, and Jeno feels his eyelashes tickle his skin.

"Everything will be alright," Jeno whispers, just as sleep claims him. It has been a long day, after all, and Jeno is only human.

Donghyuck doesn't reply, but Jeno smiles as Donghyuck kisses what he can reach of his neck, his own silent way of reassuring him, too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark can’t help but giggle at the sight, covering his mouth with a hand. The Prince blinks at him in surprise, though Mark can see in his face the moment he realises what he’s done and he turns bright red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to post this last night but i was so sleepy i went zzzz but hello good morning it is 8am my hair is dripping wet from my shower and im here to share with you all the wonders of 7dream 
> 
> ALSO!! the 19th century is the time frame i use for reference when googling if certain things would exist in their lives, but as i said in ch1, this is set in an unspecified setting both geographically and time wise

By the time Jaemin comes to fetch him for breakfast, Renjun is waiting for him, dressed in his daily clothes — he avoids Minghao's attempts to make him dress better and sticks to his usual black slacks and a white dress shirt.

"You," Minghao sighs, "Are my worst nightmare."

"Just because I do not want to wear embroidered capes for breakfast, it does not mean I am a nightmare."

"Agree to disagree."

Renjun rolls his eyes, suppressing a smile. Minghao leaves the room after he's made sure Renjun looks his very best, threading a bobby pin through his bangs to keep them off his face.

As always, Jaemin announces his presence by knocking first, calling out a soft, "Your Highness, are you ready for breakfast?"

"Come in," Renjun calls back. He smiles in greeting to Jaemin, asking, "How did you sleep?"

"I slept fine, thank you," Jaemin nods.

Renjun frowns. That was curter than Jaemin's typical tone when speaking to him.

"Are you hungry?" He tries again. "I heard the maids talking earlier, Jisung baked the croissants himself. Prince Jeno will be pleased," he adds.

Jaemin hums shortly. He's avoiding eye contact with Renjun, which he never does — if anything, Jaemin is a little too enthusiastic about looking Renjun in the eyes at all times.

"Jaemin," Renjun says, firm. He waits for Jaemin to at least glance in his direction before continuing. "What did we agree on? You said you would tell me if there was anything‒"

"I remember," Jaemin interrupts him, and Renjun gapes in surprise. "I will tell you if anything happens that you must know about."

Renjun scrutinises him for a second longer. Jaemin remains unfazed, finally looking him in the eyes. Renjun knows that Jaemin is hiding something from him; he just can't tell if it's about him, or the Princes, or about _them_.

"Fine," Renjun diverts his eyes first, fixing the collar of his shirt in the mirror. He reaches for his crown on the dresser, placing it carefully on his head before turning back to Jaemin. "Escort me to the breakfast lounge, please."

Jaemin holds the doors open for him, and walks a step behind Renjun all the way down to the breakfast lounge. Renjun hastens his pace every other minute, just to see Jaemin break a sweat, but it's futile.

Seated at the table is Jisung, a nervous little grin on his face. Renjun's previous worries fade, for a second, and he smiles back when Jisung's attention is on him.

"Good morning, Jisung," Renjun says to him, taking his seat to Jisung's right.

To both their surprises, Jaemin sits two chairs away. He doesn't offer an explanation for it, either.

"Good morning, your Highness," Jisung bows quickly. "I hope you slept well."

Renjun nudges him with his shoulder, saying, "Don't be so formal. I heard you made the croissants."

Jisung's entire face lights up with delight. "I did! I woke up before sunrise, and I couldn't go back to sleep, so I went down to the kitchen and prepared the dough."

"Were you excited about something?" Renjun already knows the answer, deep down, but he has to ask to make sure.

As he expected, Jisung looks away, shy. Renjun suppresses the urge to coo, ruffling his hair.

"I saw you chatting with Prince Jeno last night," Renjun smiles slyly. "I also happened to overhear him _insisting_ you cook for him sometime."

"He was just saying that," Jisung says, batting Renjun's hand away.

Renjun smirks, pinches the side of Jisung's neck playfully, and leans out of reach as Jisung tries to retaliate.

A guard clears his throat, thumping his cane down on the floor twice as he announces the arrival of Prince Jeno and his companion. Prince Jeno bows as he enters the room, Donghyuck in tow.

The strange occurrences this morning continue when, as Donghyuck and his Prince make a move to sit together across the table from Renjun, Jaemin calls for Donghyuck's attention.

"I was hoping you could sit with me," Jaemin taps the seat to his right. "I wanted to discuss the itinerary with you, if that's okay?"

"Of course," Donghyuck grins, briefly looking at Prince Jeno before rounding the table. He sits to Jaemin's right, just as Jaemin requested, and it isn't long before they are immersed in a conversation about plans and daily tasks.

"Your Highness," Renjun says to Prince Jeno, "Why don't you sit here?"

Prince Jeno smiles, as charming as last night, and takes a seat next to Renjun. Without meaning to, Renjun notices that the Prince smells nice.

"Everything smells great," Prince Jeno praises, glancing at the spread on the table.

"Jisung made the croissants from scratch," Renjun says to him in a faux whisper

Prince Jeno's eyes glint with something Renjun can't pinpoint. "Is that so? Well, then I am sure they're perfect."

Jisung stammers out a few words of gratitude, bowing hastily.

Then, the guard announces the entrance of Prince Mark and his companion. Renjun sits up straight as the Prince enters the room, and his breath catches in his throat, but not necessarily because of Prince Mark.

Of course, Renjun noticed Chenle last night. It would be impossible to miss him, be it because he was always one step behind Prince Mark, or because of his own charms. However, Renjun doesn't remember him as handsome.

Their group bows in greetings, exchanging pleasantries. Jaemin invites Chenle to sit with them, still clinging to the excuse of discussing itineraries, or whatever it is.

As if Renjun would ever buy such a lie.

It leaves Prince Mark to choose a spot. Renjun reaches for a croissant, murmuring something to Jisung about the butter, and it isn't until he's about to bite into his breakfast that he notices — Prince Mark, hovering awkwardly by the edge of the table, looking at Prince Jeno.

Prince Jeno isn't looking at him at all.

"Your Highness," Renjun calls, softly as not to startle anyone. "You may sit wherever you like."

Prince Mark clears his throat. "Right, of course," he stutters. Still, it takes him a second to move, and Renjun doesn't miss how he chooses to sit on Jisung's free side, away from Prince Jeno.

"Bon appetit," Renjun says to the table at large. "Your Highness, I hope your rooms are to your taste."

"They are, thank you," Prince Mark nods. "I must say, you have a lovely garden. I must have stood by the window for five minutes, watching the flowers and the trees."

Renjun, swollen with pride, smiles. "Thank you. Our gardens are my mother's favourite spot in the Castle, and you're all welcome to visit them at any moment. They're free for anyone to enjoy."

Halfway through breakfast, as Prince Mark retells Jisung with a tale from his kingdom, and Renjun listens to Prince Jeno's anecdotes from their trip, Jaemin calls for their attention.

"I just wished to remind your Highnesses that you have your individual tutoring classes scheduled for today starting at nine," Jaemin says, much more polite than Renjun is used to hearing him. "The servants will lead our guests to the rooms that have been set aside for you."

"Of course," Renjun grins, because he's nothing if not good at pretending. At pretending he's okay, or that things between him and Jaemin are okay. "I will see you all during lunch."

Each Prince goes their own way. Renjun stands in the hall, watching Prince Jeno disappear to the right, shoulder to shoulder with Donghyuck as they whisper to each other, then to the left, where Prince Mark is just about to turn a corner, Chenle hot on his heels.

"Lord Nakamoto must be waiting for you," Jisung tells him. Renjun startles, and he glances over his shoulder to see Jisung still in the breakfast lounge, picking at the cheese balls. "Shouldn't you be going?"

"Kicking me out?" Renjun narrows his eyes playfully.

Jisung nods, nonplussed. Renjun rolls his eyes, but turns his attention to Jaemin.

"Are you ready?" he asks him.

Jaemin doesn't look at him as he says yes.

**☆☆☆**

Two weeks after the arrival of the Princes to Renjun's kingdom, Renjun realises something.

"I haven't taken you to visit town."

"Excuse me?" Prince Jeno asks.

The library used to be a place of quiet, once upon a time. Ever since their visitors came, however, it's become something of a meeting spot for them. Long gone are the peaceful afternoons Renjun would spend here, studying for Lord Nakamoto's endless tests and examinations.

Not that he's complaining.

"You've been in the Castle for over a fortnight," Renjun says, closing the book on his lap. "And you haven't seen the outside of these walls."

"It isn't as if there isn't anything to do here," Prince Jeno retorts, smiling playfully. "Donghyuck can't get enough of your gardens, and I heard Chenle has spent time in the kitchens with Jisung."

Renjun nods. "True. But, still, I feel like a bad host. I would like to take you all to town, visit some of our best places."

"Then, I would be more than happy to come along," Prince Jeno says. His smile grows, and Renjun reminds himself to breathe.

"Perfect," Renjun says, offering him a smile of his own. "I'll have Jaemin prepare everything, we could go… tomorrow, perhaps?"

"Sounds like a plan," Prince Jeno agrees.

The rest of their afternoon passes much as the previous ones have: they stay in the library until tea time, reading the novels Queen Chengxiao loves the most, discussing the ones they have read in the past.

It's the first time Renjun has someone that shares his interest in literature — Jaemin reads books, sure, but they have vastly different tastes. Where Renjun enjoys romance novels, fiction, tales of heroes, gods and men, Jaemin prefers historical books, manuals on strategies and warfare.

Prince Jeno devours books at the same pace Renjun does, and his eyes light up when Renjun presents him with a new novel from his mother's shipments, books her friends and sisters send her from every corner of their kingdoms.

They could spend an entire day in the library, and they have, sitting on the plush cushions by the largest windows, reading until someone comes looking for them.

As usual, Jaemin comes into the library before the clock strikes five. This time, Renjun notices his suit jacket is a little rustled, and he's certain that’s a stray leaf on his hair.

"Your Highnesses, tea is served in the parlour," he tells them.

"Thank you, we'll be right there."

At Renjun's clear dismissal, Jaemin leaves, and Renjun suppresses the urge to sigh. Ever since the night of the feast, Jaemin has been acting off, and Renjun is tired of asking him what's wrong. If Jaemin doesn't want to tell him, that's alright. Renjun won't keep bothering him.

While Prince Jeno returns his book to the shelf — because, no matter what Renjun says, he simply won't take them to his bedchambers — Renjun peers through the window next to him. Below them, Donghyuck is picking flowers with a servant's daughter, placing the prettiest dandelion behind her ear.

Renjun spies leaves on Donghyuck’s hair. He leans further out the window, hoping to get a closer glimpse, and almost falls. He would’ve slid out the opening if it weren’t for Prince Jeno catching him on time.

“Are you okay?” the Prince asks once Renjun has both feet on the ground. “Why were you hanging out the window?”

“I was,” Renjun falters, unsure of how to reply. _I was trying to spy on your best friend because I think he was fooling around with the boy I love_ doesn’t sound like the best response. “I was trying to see something and didn’t realise I was leaning so far out. It’s nothing. Thank you for helping me.”

He knows there is no way Prince Jeno believes that is the whole truth. However, the Prince doesn’t push it, nodding with a smile before he steps back to give Renjun some breathing room.

“Ready for tea?” Renjun asks, hoping to change the subject.

“I am if you are,” Prince Jeno replies, offering his arm.

Renjun smiles as he links their arms, allowing the Prince to lead the way. He feels a little giddy to be so close to the Prince, even if their skin isn’t even touching. He can feel his body heat through their layers of clothes.

They only walk like that for a short while, separating before they reach the bottom landing. Renjun masks his disappointment by greeting the few staff members they pass.

Everyone else is waiting for them in the tea parlour, even Donghyuck, his hair devoid of leaves and shirt pristine clean. Renjun takes his seat by Jisung’s side, thanking a maid when she pours him a cup of tea.

Renjun waits until everyone has settled down before clearing his throat to garner their attention.

“I was thinking,” he says, toying with the edge of a napkin, “I haven’t taken you to see our town, and none of you has left the Castle yet. Would you like to go tomorrow?”

“That sounds like fun,” Prince Mark says. Next to him, Chenle nods his agreement as he plucks a strawberry from the bowl on the table and places it on his Prince’s plate.

“We’ll be there, too,” Prince Jeno agrees.

“Jisung, you’re coming with us, too,” Renjun tells the younger boy.

Jisung’s eyes widen in surprise. He tries to reject the offer, though he must see in Renjun’s face that he won’t take no for an answer because he sighs, slumping his shoulders in defeat.

“Then, it’s settled!” Renjun grins at the table. “How about we leave after breakfast? We can have lunch in the village.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Donghyuck says, laughing quietly. The sound makes Renjun’s skin tingle.

**☆☆☆**

Prince Renjun leads the way through the crowds, pointing at random stalls of street vendors and offering commentary on his favourite food sellers, grinning at them over his shoulder.

Mark follows as close as he can, though he grows distracted on several occasions by the vibrant colours and the noise. This town is different to all the others Mark has visited before － he’s used to more structure, more guards, and less street performers.

Of course, he’s known that the Huang kingdom isn’t like other kingdoms. He’s heard gossip about how they care more about music and poetry than they do about military matters, how the Queen often cooks with the orphans at the Town Home and how the King never allies with anyone during wars because he doesn’t care for such conflict.

Granted, most of the people he’s spoken to about it have been… petty. Spiteful, a little, since they seem to thrive even if they don’t do what is considered normal.

Next to him, Chenle gasps at a performance from a man that throws knives into the air and catches them with ease. Beyond that, a woman plays a beautiful tune on her harp, and little kids weave colourful ribbons around a water fountain.

“Our local library is over there,” Prince Renjun says, pointing toward a building in the distance. “You’re welcome to visit it any time. It isn’t as big as the one in the Castle but we send our books and novels there every year as donations.”

“Excuse me, your Highness,” Jisung pipes up from the back of the group. “I have to buy some things for the kitchen, do you mind if I slip away for a moment?”

“Of course, of course,” the Prince dismisses him, still smiling. “We will see you again in a bit.”

Jisung nods and scurries away. Mark follows him with his gaze until he disappears inside a bakery, black hair sticking out of the crowd due to how tall the young boy is.

“I was thinking you could sight see,” Prince Renjun comments. They’re still walking in a tight group, and perhaps Mark has chosen to huddle close to Chenle for protection since they have no guards with them.

That particular decision still has the Prince reeling. In his kingdom, he would never dare leave the Castle without his guards, but Prince Renjun seems at complete ease even if his only protection is his knight, Jaemin. And said knight appears more preoccupied with trying all the free samples handed to him by the citizens than he is with them. He hasn’t even touched the sword at his hip.

“We can meet at this café here,” the Prince finishes, pointing at the store down the street. It’s a quaint place, with a few tables outside and flowers on the windowsill, dark wood decorated with roses and candles. “It’s a personal favourite of mine.”

“That sounds great,” Prince Jeno agrees easily. “I was wondering if there was some place I could buy souvenirs for my parents.”

“I heard your father enjoys chess?” Jaemin says, speaking for the first time since they left the Castle’s grounds. At Prince Jeno’s affirmative, he continues, “Two blocks from here you will find Mr. Yoon’s antique shop. He sells all sorts of board games and they’re all rather beautiful, perfect for a gift.”

Prince Jeno nods, offering his gratitude with a formal bow. He then turns to Donghyuck and asks, “Would you like to join me?”

Now, Mark isn’t eavesdropping. It simply happens that he’s the closest to them, with Chenle peering at a vendor’s offered books and Prince Renjun chatting with an old lady.

“I was thinking of following Jisung, actually,” Donghyuck says, apologetic. “I wanted to buy a few things as well.”

“That’s alright, I can go by myself.”

“Excuse me?” Chenle pipes up, shier than he would speak to Mark. “I could go with you, if you like. I want to buy a present for my nephew, too.”

“Of course,” Prince Jeno agrees immediately, flashing a smile that’s all teeth and crescent eyes. “After you.”

Chenle flounders, insisting he’ll follow him instead, and Mark tunes them out. He silently prays Chenle won’t give himself a hard time around the Prince before he approaches Prince Renjun and his knight.

“Mind if I crash your party?” he asks.

“Not at all!” Prince Renjun exclaims, immediately moving aside to make room for Mark between him and Jaemin. “Donghyuck, care to join us?”

“I’m following Jisung,” Donghyuck declines with a bow, grinning a bit. “But I will see all of you soon. What time should we meet again?”

“How about for tea time?” Prince Renjun suggests. At their agreement, the Prince nods once more and waves at the others before he’s leading Mark away, chatting about showing him the best pastries in the entire kingdom.

Once more, Mark is surprised by the bright energy in the village. Everywhere he looks, he finds flowers in full blooms, the smell of ripe fruits and fresh bread. Children run past them, narrowly dodging the royals as if they were a mere obstacle rather than, well, royalty.

A little boy isn’t so lucky and he slams into Prince Renjun’s legs, both of them losing balance and falling on their butts. Neither of them is hurt, clearly, since the fall wasn’t far, but the kid still appears out of it, blinking owlishly at their faces.

“Oh, no,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry, mister.”

“That’s alright,” Prince Renjun assures him with a laugh, shifting so he’s on his knees rather than sitting on the ground and offering the little kid a hand. “Are you okay? You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

“I’m okay,” he nods. He’s blinking away tears that Mark suspects were from the shock rather than hurt. “I’m sorry your pants are dirty.”

“They’re pants,” Prince Renjun shrugs. “They can be cleaned. Here, I’ll help you up.”

The Prince stands from the ground and then takes the kid’s hand, hauling him up. The kid goes with a giggle, as if enjoying having a Prince move him around. He takes off running again as soon as he’s on his feet, with a final call out from Prince Renjun to be more careful next time.

“Your pants are ruined,” Jaemin comments, glancing at the back of the Prince’s trousers momentarily. “We should get you new ones.”

“Hmm,” Prince Renjun hums in agreement. “Your Highness, you don’t mind a slight detour for the nearest seamstress before we go to the boulangerie, do you?”

Mark likes how he says boulangerie. He likes how the Prince interjects his sentences with random words from other languages as if it’s nothing. He thinks it’s sweet.

“Not at all,” Mark says. “I’m just tagging along.”

Prince Renjun grins at him and thanks him, asking Jaemin for his coat so he can cover up while they walk. He looks a little funny, Mark thinks, with his knight’s coat tied around his waist to hide his ripped and dirtied pants, but Prince Renjun doesn’t even care.

Jaemin leads the way this time, asking for permission from the crowd when it becomes ticker the closer to the center of the village they are, and Mark can only gape around him as they move. Prince Renjun continues to point out things to him here and there, such as the pub and the finishing school and the daycare, always with a smile and eyes sparkling with pride.

They find a seamstress with an opening in her schedule. Mark wonders why they didn’t just stop at the first store they found, knowing that the workers would halt anything they were doing to attend to their Prince.

Then again, that must be exactly why. So far, Prince Renjun hasn’t abused his privileges as a Prince even once, and he doubts he ever does.

The woman is more than happy to help, tutting disapprovingly when she sees the damage.

“This might take a while,” she says to them, glaring at the pants as if they personally offended her. “Did you fall on rocks or grass?”

“The cobbled path near the library,” Prince Renjun supplies from behind the paper partition. “A boy and I had a bit of a fateful encounter.”

The seamstress laughs at his words. “Very well. Here, take these pants. I don’t want you boys hanging around here while I work, I can’t have any distractions.”

Prince Renjun pulls on the borrowed pants and thanks her once more before he leaves the store, Mark and Jaemin in tow. Outside, he stands with his hands at his hips and tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowed.

“I think the way to the bakery is through this alley and down two blocks,” he says, as if speaking to himself. “It shouldn’t take us long.

Once more, Mark follows Prince Renjun through the village. He marvels at the numerous open stores they bypass, the smell of food and tea and coffee everywhere around him. A majority of the shops have flowers on their entrance, and Mark has half a mind to ask about it when the Prince suddenly starts walking faster.

“We’re here,” Jaemin says to Mark, his ever-present smile as bright as it was the first time they met. It isn’t until this moment that Mark realises Jaemin has been a bit sullen, different to the day Mark arrived in the kingdom. “His Highness really loves this place, that is why he’s so excited.”

“I can tell,” Mark laughs, walking up to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. They’re almost the same height, except Mark has an extra inch on him from his boots. “Should we follow him?”

“After you,” Jaemin motions for him to go first.

“No, no, let’s go in together.”

Mark insists, even after Jaemin tries to make him go first, and he wins in the end. They walk into the bakery at the same time and find Prince Renjun already seated at a table, a cup of tea in front of him as he waits for them.

“What took you so long?” he asks when he sees them, his eyes lighting up.

“You ran here,” Mark says playfully. “We walked.”

“I did not run,” the Prince retorts, miffed. “You two are simply slow.”

“The Prince never runs,” Jaemin says to Mark, as if he’s sharing a big secret. “That would be unbecoming of him.”

Prince Renjun glares at his knight for a second, then does something that would have Mark’s mother fainting on the spot: he sticks his tongue out at him.

Mark can’t help but giggle at the sight, covering his mouth with a hand. The Prince blinks at him in surprise, though Mark can see in his face the moment he realises what he’s done and he turns bright red.

“That wasn’t appropriate, I’m sorry,” the Prince apologises in a haste, offering a bow from his seat. It’s even funnier how he apologises to Mark instead of Jaemin, the true ‘victim’ of his crime.

“Why?” Mark asks, still laughing to himself. “Chenle does that to me all the time. Granted, not where anyone could see, but your kingdom clearly works differently.”

The Prince watches him for a second longer. Mark feels strangely like he’s being scrutinised, and he sits still, waiting for Prince Renjun’s verdict.

Finally, the Prince grins at him and says, “What would you like to order, your Highness? I recommend the cranberry pie or the yellow cream cake.”

**☆☆☆**

The baker offers to wrap up their pastries before they leave. Jisung nods, digging through his bag of coins for the correct amount of change so he can pay for his purchase as well as leave something extra for the girl that hands it to him, flashing a shy smile at her before retreating from the counter.

It’s a quiet day at the bakery today, Jisung notices. Most of the citizens seem to be outside, enjoying the blue skies and warm weather, which leaves most indoor businesses with only a few customers. Better for him, though, Jisung thinks, since he didn’t have to wait long for the baker to have his order.

“Jisung!”

The boy startles, spinning around at the sound of his name. Donghyuck isn’t hard to find, long legs and curly hair easy to spot among the crowd, his royal servant clothes a dead give-away. He’s waving brightly at Jisung as he wades through the multitude to reach him.

(In the back of his head, he hears Prince Renjun’s voice telling him that Donghyuck isn’t considered a servant in Prince Jeno’s eyes, and that they should respect his title.)

Jisung finds himself smiling when the boy catches up to him, panting a little, curls falling on his forehead. He spots a golden chain hanging around his neck before Donghyuck adjusts the collar of his shirt and Jisung makes eye contact.

“Hello,” Jisung says, offering a short bow. He glances behind Donghyuck, expecting to find someone else, but he’s surprised to see no one. “Did you come here by yourself?”

Donghyuck nods. “Yes, His Highness is with Chenle buying presents for his parents and Prince Mark stayed with your Prince and Jaemin.”

“Oh. Alright, then. Did you need anything from the bakery? They are about to take another batch of loaves soon.”

“Actually, I was hoping you could help me,” Donghyuck says, flashing another smile, hands behind his back as he rocks back and forth on his heels. “I was wondering if you could teach me how to bake those things you make?”

“Really?” Jisung blurts out. He keeps his giddiness in check ― no one has ever asked to learn baking from him before. “What made you want to learn?”

The lady at the counter clears her throat, offering the packaged sweets to him with a bow. Jisung thanks her before leading Donghyuck toward one of the patio tables further inside the establishment, sitting on a ceramic table with lilies on the center vase.

“Well,” Donghyuck shrugs, toying with the bow on one of the packages, “Prince Jeno seems to love your desserts, and I want to be able to make some of those for him when we go back to our kingdom.”

Jisung nods in agreement, opening one of the packages on the table. He takes out the tarte Tatin and offers one half to Donghyuck, bringing the other half to his mouth. It falls apart in his mouth and Jisung groans in delight, thinking that he could never recreate something so good.

“Oh!” Donghyuck gasps, staring at the bite left in his hand while he covers his mouth with the other, wide eyes peeking at Jisung. “This is delicious! What is it?”

“Tarte Tatin,” Jisung replies, the words a little foreign to him. “It’s an inverted apple pie. I want to learn how to make it so I thought I would buy one.”

“Don’t you have the recipe?”

“I do, but it helps to have a taste of what you are making. You can’t find all the answers in a cooking book.”

Donghyuck grins, a bit of créme fraîche on the corner of his lips. “You are very smart, Jisung.”

Jisung blushes. He dabs at his mouth with a napkin to clean off the extra syrup and cream, wiping off his fingers as well. The other sweets are safe to eat when cold, so he saves them for later.

He also knows Prince Renjun likes to eat fritules during late nights, and the tray of petit fours are almost exclusively for Jaemin. Everything else is for him to taste and try to recreate.

“How about this?” Jisung says, standing up from his chair. Donghyuck follows his lead, helping him carry one of the packages. “Come with me to buy the ingredients, and later today I can teach you how to make eton mess?”

Donghyuck’s eyes sparkle in interest. “What is that?”

“Strawberries served with meringue and cream. It’s a simple dish, perfect for a first timer. I’ll teach you how to make the cream and the meringue and how to pick the best strawberries.”

“Wonderful,” Donghyuck says, a bounce to his step as he follows Jisung out of the bakery. “Where should we go first?”

Jisung hums, side-stepping to avoid a hole on the sidewalk. “There is a lady with a stand at the market who sells the best fruits. I like buying from her because I know they will be fresh. We can also find most of the other ingredients in other stalls, and anything else we can borrow from the Castle’s pantry.”

Donghyuck makes for good company. He follows Jisung’s lead without question, helps him carry their purchases, and doesn’t doubt Jisung’s expertise when buying anything. He is also endlessly curious by everything he sees around them, asking about the flowers in every store and marveling at the street performers.

“Is it different in your kingdom?” Jisung asks. They’re waiting in line for the milk, the sky turning grey above them. A quick glance at the clock tower tells Jisung it isn’t time to meet up with the others yet, however.

“It will sound like our home is boring,” Donghyuck warns jokingly, cradling the flour package to his chest. “But it isn’t common to see so much colour there. You have flowers and music and people laughing in every corner… it’s amazing.”

“The people here are very happy,” Jisung agrees, moving forward as the line advances. “It isn’t perfect, but the King and Queen do everything they can, and Her Royal Majesty is very adamant on making education and culture a priority. That is why almost everyone can play instruments or sing, why everyone can read and write…”

Jisung trails off, not wanting to ramble about the ways their kingdom has improved since the current monarchs began to rule. He wasn’t alive when they were crowned, but his father was, and he often tells Jisung that he ought to feel grateful to live under their rule.

“I think it’s beautiful,” Donghyuck sighs, glancing at the candle display on the bookstore’s window.

“It is,” Jisung hums. “Oh, it’s our turn. Hello, sir.”

Jisung buys three jars of milk and asks them to deliver it to the Castle to his name, bowing again before stepping away from the line. He doesn’t have enough hands to carry so many things, after all, and he knows it would be safer to have certain ingredients delivered directly.

They circle the open market a few more times. Jisung points out some of his favourite stores, including the best bakeries and the flower stands. Most people give out flowers as gifts, but some sell them for a living, and Jisung makes it a point to buy from them.

Donghyuck makes a short stop at one such flower stand, peering at the display with twinkling eyes. Jisung waits a few feet away, distracted with the old man selling candles, and he only returns to planet Earth when there is a tap on his shoulder.

“For you.”

Jisung blinks at the small bouquet in his hands. He doesn’t recognise any of the flowers save for the gardenias, since those are a common occurrence in the palace. Blue petals stand out against white, arranged prettily with a neat little bow tying them together.

“I– thank you, Donghyuck,” Jisung bows, feeling pink spread to his ears. “These are beautiful, but why?”

“For being so kind,” Donghyuck replies easily, fiddling with the torn edge of a package. “You didn’t have to say yes when I asked for help, you could have easily told me to find a tutor, but you agreed, and you’re so helpful and sweet, and‒”

Donghyuck pauses, clearing his throat. Jisung is thankful for that, because he doesn’t think he would have been able to handle any more compliments. He isn’t good at receiving praise from Jaemin nor Prince Renjun, let alone from a stranger.

(Not that Donghyuck is much of a stranger, at this point. They have spent plenty of time together since their arrival at the Castle, and today alone came with a lot of bonding. But he digresses.)

“There is no need to thank me,” Jisung shakes his head, though he hugs the bouquet a little closer. “I’m happy to help, anytime.”

It takes a second for Jisung to realise their eye contact has gone for longer than is considered appropriate and he looks away, focusing on the flowers again. He thinks these will look pretty on the windowsill above his bed, and he hopes his father won’t mind them.

He dreads having to explain to him why he has flowers, or why Donghyuck of all people would give them to him, but he’s willing to go through his incessant questioning for once.

**☆☆☆**

The warm light of the candles and the faint glow from the kerosene lights cast a shadow behind Jeno as he browses the store, Chenle a step behind him. They’ve been to three different shops so far and Jeno is yet to find a suitable gift for his mother, and he is close to losing his patience.

“How about you commission a painting?” Chenle suggests. Jeno glances over his shoulder to see Chenle toying with the fans on display. They’re beautiful, Jeno thinks, but he knows his mother won’t ever use them.

“From who?”

Chenle shrugs, though he seems to regain his composure quickly and he adds, “There are plenty of artists here, you could find someone with a style of your liking.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Jeno hums. His fingers graze along the edges of a jewelry box, diamond studs poking at his fingertips before he withdraws his touch. “Would you mind helping me find one?”

“Of course,” Chenle says, quick as that.

Jeno takes a second look at him and smiles to himself. “Chenle, we’ve known each other for a long time. You don’t need to act so formal around me.”

“We haven’t seen each other in almost two years,” Chenle points out, though he isn’t accusing Jeno of anything, nor is he refuting their history. “I didn’t think it would be very appropriate for me to act as if nothing.”

“We’re _friends_ , Chenle,” Jeno says, walking away from the shelf and instead moving toward the wall, where maps of the known world are stacked prettily. “I would really like it if you would talk to me as such.”

Chenle remains silent for a while. Jeno doesn’t push for a reply, examining the map of Europe and thinking that his father would like it ― he’s always been a fan of tracking his trips, and Jeno imagines he could do so with this map.

“Excuse me, sir,” Jeno calls the store owner. “I would like to purchase this map. And the jewelry box with the diamond studs.”

The owner is a middle-aged man, thin-wired glasses perched on his nose and white shirt dirtied just so with ink on the edges of his sleeves. He isn’t the least impressed or amazed to have a prince in his store, even though Jeno’s crown and badges betray his identity.

“This is a fine map,” the man says, taking great care to remove it from the wall and rolling it up so he can store it in a tube. “The artist took great care in the details, and the rivers are especially highlighted with a beautiful shade of blue.”

Jeno agrees. He engages the man in light conversation while he gift-wraps his purchases and pays for it. He also waits for Chenle to move to the other side of the store before he grabs the fan he was eyeing and slips it among the rest of his things.

They emerge from the store onto the sunny street. Jeno squints his eyes against the sudden brightness, the parcel holding the box and the fan making for an excellent shield for his eyes. Chenle grunts, covering the upper half of his face with his hand and mumbling to himself about dark stores.

“Are you thirsty?” Jeno asks.

“I should be asking you that,” Chenle shoots back. While formal enough, there is enough of a bite to his words that make Jeno smile ― the answer he wanted to hear. “Would you like anything?”

“We can have some lemonade,” Jeno points toward the stand down the street, where an old lady advertises fresh lemonade and lime pie.

They both start to order at the same time, halting mid-sentence and meeting eyes before Jeno starts to giggle. Chenle, though he tries to hide it behind a mask of mild annoyance, has to wrestle a smile out of his face.

“I can order,” Jeno says.

Jeno is aware that, being the servant and all, Chenle should be the one to order for the lemonades, even if the payment should fall on Jeno as he is the prince. Chenle says just that, omitting the part about the payment because it is obvious, a pout forming on his face without his permission.

“I know you would normally order and bring me the drink,” Jeno says, stopping briefly to pull a few notes from his jacket and hand them to the lady, “But I want to order this time.”

He feels Chenle’s eyes on him as he asks for two regular lemonades. The old lady eyes them warily, her gaze lingering on the crown on Jeno’s head for a second before she begins to work on their drinks, pouring two glasses and adding honey before handing them to them.

Jeno pays, offering a smile to the lady and then another to Chenle, who seems minutes away from losing his mind at Jeno’s surely less than proper attitude. Jeno only takes a sip of his lemonade and sweeps an arm toward the cobbled path, a silent invitation for Chenle to continue walking with him.

“This is,” Chenle says, shaking his head. “No one can know I let you get away with this.”

“Why not?” Jeno asks, laughing. He thinks Chenle is being dramatic, though that’s exactly how he remembers him. “All I did was buy a drink for my good friend, nothing more. Is that so wrong?”

“I’m a servant, your Highness,” Chenle points out, leaving no room for argument. Even the way he says his royal title is full of meaning, a reminder of their different ranks, how much higher in the food chain Jeno is. “But… Thank you, for the lemonade. It’s very sweet.”

Whether he means the drink or the gesture, Jeno doesn’t know. He just knows he likes how Chenle says it.

They continue to walk through the busy streets of the kingdom, peering at the displays and pressing their faces against windows to take closer looks at their merchandise. Chenle points out things he thinks Jeno’s mother would like best, things such as a hand mirror embedded with sapphires and a painting of a field in beautiful shades of green and yellow. Jeno considers some of them, but none captures his attention for more than a minute or two.

“I keep thinking of your idea of commissioning a painting for her,” Jeno confesses. They exit their third store since buying the lemonade, cup long ago discarded even if the taste lingers on their taste buds. “Should we ask the Prince if he could recommend someone for me?”

Chenle hums. He’s grown quieter, answering Jeno’s questions but not offering conversation of his own. Jeno loathes to think he might have upset him, or that he might have offended him somehow.

“Chenle,” Jeno says, stopping at the mouth of an alley. A cat meows deep within the side street. Chenle pauses as well, glancing at him as acknowledgment. “I would like to apologise for my behaviour. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable and I should have thought better of it.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Chenle replies, a hand coming up to tug at the collar of his shirt before it falls back to his side. “Honest, you have been polite and friendly, and I appreciate that.”

“Then,” Jeno frowns, “What is the problem?”

Chenle sighs, looking over his shoulder at the young girl selling ribbons on a stand across the street before stepping closer. The alley is shrouded in shadows due the tall buildings around, and Jeno… well, he feels almost hidden from the rest of the world. Chenle steps inside the alley as well, and they stand across each other, a prince and a servant, away from prying eyes.

“I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to act as usual with you,” Chenle confesses, crossing his arms across his chest. Something he wouldn’t dare to do where others could see him. “The last time we saw each other wasn’t… ideal, I suppose. I didn’t want to cross any boundaries.”

“You don’t have to worry about that with me,” Jeno says softly. His crown weighs him down, makes him want to duck his head or take it off. He can’t, and he knows that, so he clasps his hands behind his back. “We were good friends back then, and we still are. The– that doesn’t have to change because of it.”

Chenle bites his bottom lip, not looking at him as he nods. When his eyes find Jeno’s again, they sparkle with something new, but it doesn’t fool Jeno: there is something else bothering him, something he doesn’t wish to share with him.

“Very well,” Chenle says, stepping back onto the busy street.

Jeno follows him, readjusting the band around his waist. He feels a little suffocated in his clothes, and he can't wait to be back in his chambers so he can change into something more comfortable. The promise of Donghyuck's presence sounds just as sweet, too.

They fall into easy conversation, finally. Chenle talks more, even going as far as to make jokes at Jeno's expenses, laughing freely whenever Jeno says something silly. It feels much better than before, when Jeno had to carry the conversation with a Chenle that didn't seem eager to be with him.

Jeno wonders why Chenle joined him if he felt so odd around him. Jeno could have gone on his own, although he's sure it wouldn't have been as fun. Especially after Donghyuck decided to follow Jisung rather than stay with him, a choice that left Jeno baffled.

It isn't as if he thinks Donghyuck can't go on his own. As attached to the hip as they are, the both of them are two different people with their own responsibilities, and so it would make sense for Donghyuck to want to go someplace else.

Still, Jeno misses him. He would have liked to buy anything Donghyuck so much as looked at, knowing well and good how Donghyuck feels about Jeno spending any kind of money on him. He would have liked to see his eyes light up at the sight of all the pretty things in the village. He would have liked to sneak into a dark alley to kiss the stars on his face.

Jeno takes a quick glance to his side. Chenle is fascinated by a street performer, cheeks flushed pink in excitement and smiling like a child, the hair on the back of his head ruffled from the wind. The joy on his face is unmistakable.

Jeno supposes this is good, too. He might not have Donghyuck by his side, but Chenle is nothing short of a delightful companion.

From the corner of his eyes, Jeno spots something that captures his attention. Jeno drags his attention away from Chenle to take a closer look, lighting up with excitement when he notices the paintings outside a home. They're perfect, from the colours to the style. Jeno can definitely see his mother liking one of those.

Jeno approaches the house. He tilts his head up, a hand cradling his crown so it doesn't fall from his face, and examines the façade: it's an old home, the paint chipping off on the walls, but it wears the same flowers as the rest of the village. A young boy sits outside, most likely the one selling the paintings.

"Excuse me," Jeno says, smiling thin-lipped when the boy notices his presence and bows hastily, flushed bright red. "I am looking to commission an artist to do a painting of my mother. Are you the one who made these?"

"That is correct, your Highness," the boy nods, licking his lips. He can't be any older than fifteen years old, Jeno thinks. "But I have never taken commissions before, are you sure you would like me to do it?"

"You painted these," Jeno says in lieu of a response. "These are the style my mother likes. I am sure you will do more than alright with it. I will be staying at the Castle for another two months or so, and I am likely coming back to the village soon. Think about my offer and you can give me an answer when I return."

The boy flusters, bowing once more as he thanks Jeno for the opportunity. Jeno bids him goodbye, turning on his heels to return to Chenle's side.

Chenle is right where Jeno left him, still as fascinated by the display as he was minutes ago. He doesn't seem like he noticed Jeno's absence, which amuses him endlessly.

"Shall we go look for the others?" Jeno proposes. He almost offers an arm to Chenle until he realises it would definitely be inappropriate, and it doesn't matter how kind and cheerful the people around them seem to be; a Prince and a servant linking arms won't go unnoticed.

Chenle startles, as if waking up from a dream. His ears turn pink even as he agrees, falling into step behind Jeno. The prince grins quietly to himself as he navigates the streets back to where they agreed they would meet up once more.

**☆☆☆**

Renjun plays idly with the mantle, fingers tracing over the circular patterns. Jaemin has ordered their teas, asking for a cup of chamomile and honey for his Prince — which Renjun appreciates immensely. It also makes his chest flutter with something, as if Jaemin's acknowledgement of his nerves is also his silent way of saying that he will still look out for him.

If it's Jaemin's way of saying that, whatever it is that has him acting strangely, doesn't change how he feels.

Prince Mark has engaged Donghyuck in conversation about one thing or another, broad hand gestures and grins on their faces as they (accidentally or not) shift their chairs to face each other as they speak. Jisung is trying to convince Jaemin to help him with his next baking experiment, pulling out all the stops, including a pout that has Renjun blurting out he will help before he can stop himself.

"Really?" Jisung asks, an excited tilt to his voice. "Wow, you haven't wanted to bake with me in so long."

"I'm sorry," Renjun frowns. "I promise I will try to make more time for that in the future."

Where Jisung would usually deny that with an earnest shake of his head, insisting that Renjun has more important things to do, he only beams at him and nods, rattling off about the different treats he wants to try and how the kitchen staff will probably kill them if they find them in the kitchen after hours.

As if either of them cares about such things.

"Don't worry about that," Renjun tells him, smiling indulgently. "I will make sure to ask for permission to use the kitchen after dinner is done, that way there won't be any interruptions."

Jaemin meets his eyes over Jisung's head. His knight lifts an eyebrow in questioning, though Renjun isn't sure what is making him look at him like that. All Renjun knows is that he doesn't like how it makes him feel as if he's doing something wrong, or forbidden.

"Oh, there they are," Donghyuck announces, glancing at something behind Renjun.

Renjun shifts in his seat and sees Prince Jeno approaching them, two parcels held in his hands and Chenle following close behind. Renjun stamps down the flutter of excitement he feels at the sight of them and instead wears the most welcoming smile he can muster, greeting them with a half bow.

There are two more seats available on the table, since they chose this one with their party in mind. Prince Jeno slips into the chair next to Donghyuck easily, greeting him with a nod of his head. Donghyuck bows lightly, fixing his chair to a more appropriate position, and Prince Mark does the same.

Renjun notes Jaemin's eyes narrowing at something Renjun can't see.

"What would you like to drink?" Jaemin asks the newcomers, flagging down the waitress. They chose an outdoor table for the added sunlight and breeze, but the servers tend to hide inside the restaurant and it proves to be a bit of a challenge sometimes.

Prince Jeno asks for some water, claiming he isn't in the mood for anything warm, and Chenle echoes the sentiment. Once the waitress is gone, Renjun clears his throat, capturing the attention of everyone at the table.

"Oh, uh," Renjun stammers, "I was just going to ask his Highness if he found what he was looking for."

"I did," Prince Jeno says, patting the parcels on his lap proudly. "I also found an artist to commission for my mother's gift."

"Oh!" Donghyuck exclaims. "Her Majesty will love that. A one of a kind painting is just the kind of thing for her."

"I'm glad to hear I'm not the only one who thinks so," Jeno says, offering the boy a smile. "I wasn't sure about what to get her but Chenle suggested a painting would be fitting for her."

Chenle startles at the mention of his name, having been busy retelling a story to Prince Mark about a street performer he saw, but he takes Donghyuck's praise.

"It will be night time soon," Jaemin says, glancing at the sky. Renjun imitates him, frowning when he realises the sun is beginning to set. "We should have our drinks and head back, lest we get caught in the night rain."

It has been raining every night since their arrival. The mornings are sunny, blue skies and a light breeze, but as soon as the night falls, rain covers every inch of the kingdom. Renjun's father has received numerous reports of landslides and floods, and his charismatic persona has fallen away to reveal a worried king unsure of how to help his people.

"That seems prudent," Prince Mark agrees.

**☆☆☆**

Later, with the seven of them huddled inside the carriage while the horses neigh in complaint at the unexpected storm, Renjun laughs and says, "I think we should have left earlier."

Jaemin, soaking wet, glares at him as best as he can while trying to dry his face with a cloth Renjun found under the seats. It doesn't work very well.

The seven of them hardly fit inside the small car, but they make do. Normally, Jaemin, Donghyuck and Chenle would be sitting on the driver's seat at the front, with Jaemin manning the horses and Donghyuck and Chenle keeping him company. Jisung rode inside the car with the princes because there was no room at the front, and Renjun asked him to, either way.

Now, they squeeze together on the two rows, their knees knocking together and Chenle half sitting on Prince Mark's lap. Neither of them seems to mind, though, the Prince picking at a stray leaf on Chenle's back and flicking it out of the car through the small window at his side.

Jisung sits squeezed between Renjun and Jaemin, one of his legs hiked on top of Jaemin's thigh and his bouquet of flowers on his lap, but they still have more room to sit than their companions. Across the miniscule space, besides Prince Mark and Chenle, Prince Jeno and Donghyuck sit together - as a matter of fact, Donghyuck sits atop Prince Jeno's thighs, though closer to his knees than his torso, and he's obviously making an effort to touch the Prince as little as possible.

That isn't an issue to Renjun. He knows how close they are, possibly due to having grown up together as he did with Jaemin and Renjun. What worries him is how Donghyuck has his eyes clenched shut, how pale he is, and the tight grip he has on his pants.

Renjun debates with himself if he should ask about it, but Jisung beats him to it.

"Donghyuck?" Jisung calls his name softly, as if afraid that speaking too loudly would spook him. The other boy makes a sound of acknowledgment but doesn't open his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Donghyuck opens his mouth, starting to respond, but a clap of thunder outside the carriage has him whimpering and ducking his head, looking like he'll start crying.

"Donghyuck is..." Prince Jeno starts to say, voice tight with worry, "He's scared of thunderstorms."

Renjun's eyebrows climb up his forehead in surprise.

"We should have left earlier," Jaemin says ruefully. Jisung makes a sound of agreement, brows pinched with worry.

With a quick glance at the other two people inside the carriage, Renjun notices how Prince Mark and Chenle don't seem surprised, but they do appear worried for him. The Prince in particular is glancing at Donghyuck as if wondering if he could help.

Renjun voices such worry, asking, "Is there anything we can do?"

Another bolt of lightning, followed by more thunder. Donghyuck jolts, biting down on his bottom lip strong enough to break the skin, a drop of blood surfacing, and he whimpers in distress. Prince Jeno's hands hover awkwardly behind him, as if he's hesitating to touch him, but the sky rumbles outside, the carriage shaking with the force behind the storm, and Donghyuck makes such a sound of fear that the Prince visibly throws caution to the wind.

Prince Jeno gently maneuvers Donghyuck closer to him, and the boy goes with minimal struggle, resting his back against his chest. The Prince curls a hand around Donghyuck's clenched fist, shushing him quietly.

Renjun watches them, hoping he could do something to help. He isn't scared of storms, quite enjoys rain, as a matter of fact, but he must admit that this storm in particular has him glancing out the window every now and then. He can't imagine how Donghyuck must feel, though he can see the panic in his face even if the Prince is doing his best to help him.

They pass the storm like that, with Donghyuck making whimpering noises whenever thunder or lightning strikes too close for comfort, Prince Jeno murmuring reassurance to him, and everyone else trying to give them as much privacy as the enclosed space will allow. They're sweating inside the stifling air inside the carriage, but there is nothing they can do about it at the moment.

It is nighttime by the time the rain sizzles out to a mere drizzle. Jaemin waits five more minutes, and then he clears his throat.

"I think we are safe now," he says to the carriage at large, though his eyes linger on Donghyuck's still trembling form. "I think we should start the trek back to the Castle, lest it begins to rain again."

Jaemin pats Jisung's thigh lightly to indicate him to move off him, the boy shuffling closer to Renjun instead. Jaemin opens the carriage's door, a cold breeze making them shiver. Renjun wishes he had brought a cape with him, but it was sunny when they left and it didn't occur to him that he would need it.

Chenle exits the carriage with Jaemin, and then the two of them glance at Donghyuck. He continues to shake, though now that there is slightly more space on the seat he has moved off his Prince's lap.

"Donghyuck can stay with us inside," Renjun speaks up, nodding at Jaemin as to communicate to him that it is alright. "Jisung, do you think you could join Chenle and Jaemin?"

"Of course," Jisung nods, climbing out quickly. His boots make a slushing sound when they touch the mud outside the carriage, though he doesn't appear bothered.

The door closes, and the carriage is plunged into silence. Prince Mark, noticing that their seat is crowded, switches places to seat next to Renjun instead, and yet... Donghyuck doesn't move away from Prince Jeno right away, not until the Prince has cleared his throat.

Donghyuck startles, glancing at the empty space as if noticing it for the first time, and then slides away. The carriage begins to move, the voices of the three boys outside carried inside by the wind, though most of it is unintelligible.

Renjun twiddles his thumbs and stares at his lap, stealing glances at the two boys across from him. Prince Mark has his head leant against the window, looking at the scenery outside the carriage, giving Donghyuck privacy to get his breathing under control. There are tear marks drying on his face, lashes wet and clumped, the apples of his cheeks pink and his lips quivering as he takes in breath after breath.

It doesn't escape Renjun's attention how Prince Jeno watches Donghyuck like a hawk, hands twitching on his lap as if he's barely restraining himself from reaching out to touch him. It makes Renjun wonder, not for the first time since they met, what they mean to each other.

Regardless of that, Renjun's heart clenches at the sight of Donghyuck's face. He wishes he could do something other than stay quiet.

"I," Donghyuck begins to say, his voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again, "I apologise for... for that. Usually, I can deal with it better."

"There is nothing to be sorry about," Renjun says, accidentally interrupting Prince Jeno as he opened his mouth. "We're all scared of something. I, for one, am terrified of boats. I can't sail or else I cry and stop breathing."

"I'm scared of dogs," Prince Mark interjects, offering him a small smile. "Really, don't be sorry."

Donghyuck stares at them, his eyes flickering to Prince Jeno momentarily, then he nods. He's blushing once more, though this time his eyes betray his gratitude for their words. "Thank you."

Renjun doesn't know if he means thank you for not commenting on his episode, or thank you for their reassurance. He wants to say that there is nothing to thank them for, but the carriage jolts as they pass over a bump on the road and he's distracted with keeping his body on the seat.

When they reach the Castle walls, Renjun hears the guards exclaiming at their soaked forms, asking Jaemin if they're alright. Jaemin replies something, saying something about stopping to ride out the storm, and then they're approaching the Castle's doors.

A servant opens the door, tutting at Donghyuck's drenched form, though she thankfully doesn't make any comments. She simply ushers him out of the carriage and up the stairs inside the Castle, no doubt leading him to a warm bath. That's something Renjun has learned to love about their staff, as well as something he knows isn't very common in other kingdoms: they don't care about status when it comes to caring for those living inside the Castle.

Any other Castle or kingdom, and they would have ignored Donghyuck's situation in favour of tending to the Princes. Instead, more servants usher out of the Castle with umbrellas held above their heads, escorting the Princes and the other boys inside.

Someone already prepared a bath for Renjun, most likely seeing their carriage in the distance and knowing he would need it. The water is almost too hot for Renjun's liking, but he is shivering from the cold and the warmth is more than welcomed.

Hours later, they converge in one of the smaller dining rooms for dinner. Everyone else ate earlier, but the seven of them were too cold to go down then. Renjun, in particular, sat in front of the fireplace in his room with Jaemin for nearly twenty minutes, hoping it would bring the sensation back to his fingers.

"It's too bad we won't have time to bake tonight," Jisung sighs wistfully.

"We still could," Renjun says, humming to himself as he takes another sip of his wine. "No one will be in the kitchen by the time we are done eating."

"But we haven't asked for permission," Jisung frowns.

Renjun grins at him. "I'm the prince, Jisunggie. It doesn't matter."

Normally, Renjun isn't the type to break the rules like this. Yet again, he would break a law just to see Jisung smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you think!! there is more fluff to come in the next chapter before the angst begins hehe


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Jaemin, are you still awake?” he asks, knocking briefly on the door. He doesn’t wait for a response and waltzes in. 
> 
> Jaemin is awake, in fact, though only barely. Renjun trips over air when he catches a glimpse of bare chest, averting his eyes immediately.
> 
> “Did something happen?” Jaemin is sitting up, reaching for his sword even with his eyes still half-closed, ready to defend Renjun from an invisible threat. “What’s wrong?”

Jeno didn’t expect Jaemin to come with them to the village.

When he announced to their breakfast table at large that he would be visiting the young artist again, he expected Prince Renjun to suggest he brings a guard or two with him  － maybe he doesn’t see the use in bringing the guard with him, but Jeno isn’t used to such a thing, and the Prince is aware of it. 

It was a lovely morning. Prince Renjun convinced the kitchen staff to bring some chocolate to the table along with the rest of their breakfast, and then he spent a majority of the meal eating strawberries dipped in chocolate, a cup of tea left forgotten at his elbow. Donghyuck, sat at Jeno’s side, kept his hands resolutely to himself and their side of the table, until Jeno sneaked some strawberries to his plate as well. 

It earned him a thankful smile and a squeeze on his thigh concealed behind the pretense of arranging the napkin on Donghyuck’s lap.

On the other side of the table, Prince Mark spread butter on his bread and listened to Jisung’s explanation on how the quiche they were having was made, a twinkle in the boy’s eyes as whenever he talked about baking. Chenle seemed half-asleep over his plate of watermelon and pineapple, a cup of oatmeal cleaned out previously, and he only came to life when Jaemin engaged him in conversation about one thing or another.

Jeno waited for everyone to be almost done eating before he spoke, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a white napkin and draping it over his lap as he cleared his throat.

“I was hoping to visit the village today,” he said, speaking mostly to Prince Renjun. “I want to talk to the artist I mentioned before. Is it alright if I borrow a guard?”

“Why don’t you bring Jaemin with you?” the Prince suggested, a bright smile on his face as he lifted his undoubtedly cold tea to his lips.

“He’s your knight,” Jeno protested weakly. He felt the force of Jaemin’s glare on his skin like pinpricks, but he ignored him to the best of his capacity. “Shouldn’t he stay with you?”

“I’ll be in the library all day,” Prince Renjun waved him off. “And Jaemin knows the village like the back of his hand. He can go with you, right?”

Jaemin, startled by Prince Renjun’s sudden mention of his name, looked away from Jeno’s side profile to offer a nod. “Of course. It isn’t an issue at all.”

“See?” the Prince beamed at Jeno. “I’ll have a carriage prepared for you in an hour.”

Now, Jeno and Donghyuck sit with two hand-widths of space between them inside the carriage, and Jaemin glares at them from the cushioned seat across from them. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of them since they left the Castle walls.

Donghyuck fidgets uncomfortably, Jeno attuned to each of his movements. Jeno almost reaches out to touch him, but Jaemin’s hawk-like gaze sharpens and he drops his hand on his lap.

“Did you only come today to spy on us?” Donghyuck snaps, low enough that the guards on the coach’s seat won’t hear them.

Jeno’s too surprised by his sudden outburst to scold him. Jaemin appears the same, for once ditching his glare to stare at him. Splotches of pink dot Donghyuck’s cheeks.

“I didn’t come here to spy on anyone,” Jaemin grits back. “I came because his Highness said I should, nothing less.”

“Then don’t you think that you could be more amiable?”

Jaemin raises a single eyebrow. Jeno waits with bated breath for his response.

“Very well,” Jaemin sighs, relaxing his stand. He still sits with his back straight, head raised high, but his shoulders lose the tension in them. His grip on the hilt of his sword loosens as well. “Your Highness, you said you wished to find the young man to commission him?”

“That would be correct,” Jeno nods. This is the most polite that Jaemin has spoken to him since the fateful night he found them in the act of lovemaking, and he isn’t sure how to proceed.

“And do you remember where you saw him?”

Jeno opens his mouth to respond and promptly closes it again. Donghyuck almost scoffs in disbelief, though he masks it as a cough quickly. Jeno doesn’t reprimand him because, well, he’s Donghyuck, and because Jeno can’t blame him.

“I do not,” he admits, ears burning red.

Jaemin smiles  － it isn’t the wide, boisterous smile he reserves for Jisung, nor is the sweet one he gives Chenle and Prince Mark. It isn’t even the small, almost not there one he sends Prince Renjun’s way when he thinks no one is looking. It’s small, yes, and it’s almost fond, but not quite.

“What do you remember seeing around you?” he prods, crossing his legs.

“I remember buying lemonade from an old lady about a block away,” Jeno says, tilting his head. “And there were street performers, and a little girl selling ribbons.”

Jaemin’s eyes light up in recognition. “Ah, yes, I know who you met. His father works at the Castle part time, mostly during the winter. I know where to go.”

With that, Jaemin knocks on the partition separating them from the coach seat, sliding the wood to the side in order to relay the direction to the guards driving them. The dark red gloves on his hands fit his fingers perfectly.

The carriage takes them as close to the boy’s house as possible. Given how the cobbled stone paths of the village are often packed with people, Jeno didn’t expect anything else. Jaemin leads the way, the crowd parting for them in a way it didn’t when they came here with their Prince.

Perhaps it’s because Jeno is a face they aren’t familiar with, or perhaps it’s because Jaemin’s strong shoulders and impassive expression command such action, muttering low apologies to those that don’t move right away.

Jeno is impressed. He shares a look with Donghyuck, the boy less than a step behind him, and knows he thinks the same. This Jaemin is vastly different to the one they’ve seen before, the picture perfect of a knight tasked with the duty of protecting a member of a royal family.

With Jaemin’s added guidance, they reach their destination quickly. Jeno is thankful for it, glancing up at the grey skies; he doesn’t wish for a repetition of last time.

The boy is, once more, sitting on the front steps of his home. He has a sketchbook on his lap this time, a piece of charcoal in his hand as he works, and he remains oblivious to their presence until Jaemin clears his throat.

“Jaemin!” he exclaims in surprise before his eyes flit to the two men behind his friend and he stands, bowing quickly at them. Jeno notices how he tries desperately to rub away the residues on his fingers to no avail. “Your Highness… you came back.”

“I did,” Jeno says. He offers him a smile that he hopes will soothe his nerves, even if only a bit. “I was hoping you would take my offer.”

The boy nods eagerly, grabbing his sketchbook off the steps and motioning for the Prince to follow him inside his home. "I will need you to describe what you would like in the painting."

"I want it to be a portrait of my mother," Jeno explains.

The boy's house is small but kept fairly neat. Jeno takes a seat on the dining table by the window, the boy sitting across from him, and Jaemin and Donghyuck linger a few feet away. Jeno shoos them away, saying, "I will be fine. You two can go do whatever you want and we can meet here again in an hour."

Jaemin visibly hesitates to leave. Donghyuck knows Jeno can handle himself and he only bows to him before he starts walking away, but he stops when he realises Jaemin isn't doing the same.

"Come on," Donghyuck prompts, taking Jaemin's elbow in hand. "His Highness is a big boy, he will be fine."

With a final warning glance at the guards outside the home, Jaemin allows Donghyuck to drag him away. From his vantage point, Jeno can see them disappear into the crowd, and quietly hopes they don't fight.

He trusts Jaemin with his life, but he doesn't trust him not to bring up sensitive topics with Donghyuck. He almost regrets telling them to go away, but then he reminds himself that they are both grown men and they can take care of themselves.

Jeno returns his attention to the boy. He's flipping through his sketchbook distractedly, a strand of hair falling on his forehead. Jeno opens his mouth to ask something and the realisation that he doesn't know his name slams into him full force.

"Excuse me," he says, polite, because he's nothing if not a mannered prince. He can feel Doyoung's disapproval at his lack of education for not asking before. "It just occurred to me that I didn't ask for your name."

"Son Dongju, your Highness," he bows, and the same strand falls in front of his eyes. He huffs, blowing it away, and finally finds a blank page he can use. "Would you mind describing your mother to me?"

Jeno does his best to describe Queen Jinah. Truth be told, he isn't the most observational son out there, and he blanks multiple times when Dongju asks for details, but soon the boy figures out he's hopelessly out of his debt and gently guides him through it. He even flips to a different page and draws different sketches of eyes, noses, eyebrows and lips, so Jeno can choose which are closer to his mom's.

After perhaps half an hour, Dongju announces that he has all he needs. He's examining his sketch with careful eyes, and suddenly his mouth drops and he looks up at Jeno in surprise.

"Is your mother Queen Jinah?" he asks.

Jeno blinks twice before he nods. "She is."

"Oh," Dongju gapes, staring at the sketch in front of him. "My brother and I were from your country, originally. We moved here as kids, but... I didn't recognise you, your Highness."

"Really?" Jeno asks, tilting his head. If he pays close attention, he thinks he can catch an accent in Dongju's words, but it's faded, proof that he hasn't spoken their dialect in a long time. "I didn't notice that."

"We've lived here for many years," Dongju shrugs, and this time Jeno can hear it: the drawl at the end of each word, how he clips his r. Jeno smiles. "We had to adapt to the dialect and accent here, and we never speak in our mother tongues with each other."

"Your accent is flawless," Jeno praises him, because it's true. He sounds just like a native. "I never would have known you weren't from here."

Dongju smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Jeno senses there must be something else to that story, but he also knows Dongju won't divulge it to a stranger, so he changes the subject.

"How much for the painting?" he asks, reaching into the inside pocket of his suit. He brought enough cash with him to make his mother proud, and he's ready to pay whatever it takes.

"I think a thousand should be enough," Dongju hums.

Jeno stares at him in surprise. "In advance?"

"No, total," Dongju shakes his head. He makes a double take when he notices Jeno's expression and he pales. "I'm sorry, is that too much? I asked around and everyone said that would be a good amount."

"It's too little," Jeno stresses, frowning. "Your work is excellent, and you are making a painting for the queen. You should be charging much more than that."

"Oh," Dongju says, fidgeting a little. "How much are you willing to pay, then?"

Jeno pulls out a wad of cash and counts the bills. Dongju's eyes bulge out of their sockets at the sight, and Jeno feels a prick of embarrassment on his nape before he shoves it down. He presents Dongju with several large bills and says, "How is this as insurance? Once you're done with the painting, I'll pay you the same amount again."

Dongju doesn't reply for a second or two, wrapping his head around Jeno's words. Jeno waits patiently and grins when he nods, taking his payment and tucking the bills close to his chest.

"Perfect," Jeno says, standing up. Dongju scrambles to follow him. "I will be back in... a month? Is that alright?"

"Yes," Dongju nods.

They bid their farewells. Jeno still has enough time to wander around for a bit before Jaemin returns for him, and he walks along the sidewalk, window shopping until he sees something that catches his attention.

A jewelry store is selling bracelets, beautiful gold and silver bands decorated with constellations and the moon. Jeno hesitates for a second before entering the store, asking the guards behind him to wait outside.

The chandeliers on display catch the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. Table after table displays jewelry of beautiful quality, bracelets and necklaces and rings and tiaras for anyone with the means to browse and shop. Jeno peers at a few others, namely a ring with a rose gold band and a small diamond, but his heart is set on something else.

"May I help you, young man?" asks the clerk, a man around his forties with greying hair and a balding spot on the top of his head.

"I'm interested in purchasing a bracelet you have on display," Jeno says.

**☆☆☆**

Donghyuck closes the tap in the bathtub and stands back. Jeno hasn't returned from the library yet but he decided to start running his bath either way because he knows how grumpy he gets if the water is too hot. Thankfully, the Castle has warm water almost all the time, so Donghyuck doesn't have to boil it himself. It's a newer function and most kingdoms haven't adapted to it yet, so Donghyuck wouldn't have minded, but it's nice to have the commodity.

As he steps out of the bathroom, he nearly careens into Lucy while she stores the Prince's newest purchases. Jeno insisted he wanted to do the gift wrapping himself, which isn't all that surprising but still worrying. Donghyuck has seen him attempt such things before and it has never ended well.

Jungwoo laughs at their collision from the walk-in closet, two separate sets of pajamas in hand. Donghyuck doesn't think Jeno needs help choosing what to wear for bed, but he won't knock on Jungwoo's job.

"Stop laughing," Lucy snaps half-heartedly. Her bun slipped out of place and now her hair falls all over her face and she huffs, dropping what she's doing to redo it. Donghyuck shuffles around her, reaching for the bathrobe left discarded on the back of a chair this morning, and puts it back where it belongs.

Sometime between Donghyuck entering the bathroom to ensure everything is in order and exiting, Jeno arrives. He dismisses Lucy and Jungwoo after running through casual pleasantries, wishing them a good evening and sweet dreams. Donghyuck remains rooted to the spot under the archway while waiting for them to leave. 

Once alone, Jeno’s shoulders drop and his exhaustion shines through. He rubs his face harshly with his hands, traces of make-up coming away with his strength. Donghyuck stays right where he is, flexing his fingers to stave off the sudden need to rub away the frown in the middle of his Prince’s face.

“Long day?” he guesses. Jeno grunts in response, dragging his feet across the porcelain floor to reach him, and he immediately collapses in Donghyuck’s hold. Donghyuck tuts, patting his back even as he says, “No decorum left in you, is there?”

“I’m tired,” Jeno says petulantly into the skin of Donghyuck’s neck. “Doyoung wouldn’t let me go until I recited all the laws in his stupid physics textbook and my head hurts.”

“Poor thing,” Donghyuck laughs. Jeno plays up the part, fake crying and all, and Donghyuck laughs once more.

Regardless of how playful Jeno might be acting, however, Donghyuck can feel the knots and the tension on his body, how tightly coiled he is, and he rubs his back the way he knows makes Jeno melt under his touch. It works like a charm, and soon he has an armful of sleepy royal, with Jeno saying he doesn’t need to wash up before bed. 

“I already prepared your bath,” Donghyuck says, pulling away from his embrace. Jeno almost whines, though he visibly holds back from such action. “Come on, a quick bath and then you can go to sleep.”

It takes some effort from Donghyuck to convince him, but eventually Jeno slides under the bubbles of the bath, sighing contently once the warm water touches his body. Donghyuck smiles to himself from the sink, rearranging the cologne bottles for what feels like the nth time this evening.

“Get in with me,” Jeno calls softly, a hand reaching out to him.

Donghyuck shakes his head firmly. “No. I won’t risk it.”

“No one will come in,” Jeno tries again. “I made sure to lock the door, and we can lock this one, as well.”

“Yes, because  _ that  _ wouldn’t be suspicious.”

“Hyuck.”

Donghyuck sighs and looks at him. Jeno is pouting, his outstretched hand dripping water all over the bathroom tiles, hair wet and eyelashes crumpled from his short dip underwater. It's impossible to resist him.

When he slides into the bath with him, Jeno gives him a smile so big it nearly splits his face in two. Donghyuck rolls his eyes, but he still goes willingly when Jeno spreads his arms in a silent invitation. Jeno gathers him up in his arms and kisses the side of his face, smothering his smile in Donghyuck's curls.

Donghyuck sighs and lets him do as he pleases. He didn't use to like such affection from him, used to feel odd whenever he let his Prince pamper him, but he's come to love it. Especially since Jeno took to reminding him of all the things he does for him every day.

"You already do so much," Jeno always tells him. "You're with me every step of the way, at every meeting and every ball and every little thing I have to do as a Prince."

"That's my job. And I'm not the only one with you."

"Maybe so. But all the others have someone waiting for them at home at the end of the day. Let me be that someone for you. Let me wash your hair and help you change out of your ridiculous uniform and kiss you before you fall asleep."

So Donghyuck does. He closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation of Jeno's long fingers carding through his hair, the scent of rosemary water and soap wafting around them. He thinks he could fall asleep like this, lulled by Jeno's quiet humming and the sensation of being as intimately close as they are even in the most innocent of ways. Today was a long day, after all, and Jeno is right about one thing: all staff members have someone waiting for them at the end of the day.

Donghyuck supposes his someone is the same Prince he spends the day with, the Prince he accompanies to meetings and parties and all his other royal duties that he couldn't possibly understand.

Later, while Jeno ruffles his hair with a fluffy towel and laughs at the mess he makes of Donghyuck's hair, Donghyuck catches a glimpse of the night sky.

"Whoa," he murmurs, unconsciously stepping away from Jeno to take a closer look. Tonight is the first night of many that the sky isn't cloudy and grey, and he can see the stars perfectly. "That's beautiful."

Jeno hums in agreement, stepping up beside him. They're close to the windows, closer than Donghyuck would ever dare to be back home, but there is no one below to see them. Jeno, perhaps on the same wavelength as him, sneaks an arm around his waist and tugs him closer.

"When was the last time we saw the stars like this?" Donghyuck asks faintly. He doesn't know why he asks, when he's always perfectly content to stay silent in moments like this.

"I can't remember," Jeno giggles. Donghyuck feels his eyes heavy on his side profile and he turns his head to look at him questioningly. "I have something for you."

Jeno detaches from him and moves to the other side of the room to dig through his belongings. Donghyuck perches on the edge of the bed, sparing a single thought to the bed sheets he will undoubtedly wet before lying down. His muscles wail in gratitude and he groans, crawling further up the bed.

How do royal families manage to find the most comfortable beds?

While Donghyuck was making himself comfortable, Jeno found what he was looking for. His Prince finds him cuddled up in bed, the blanket wrapped around him, and merely smiles indulgently before he joins him.

"I bought this for you," he says, almost shyly, as he hands Donghyuck a black velvet box.

Donghyuck takes the offered case without much protest. He's long grown past refuting Jeno's gifts, especially since any complaint usually ends with Jeno buying something even more ridiculous the next time, and Donghyuck doesn't wish to see his Prince buying a house or a fleet of ships for him.

He opens the box and gasps, feeling almost tearful at the sight of the matching bracelets inside. Sure, they have matching items, but none as glaringly obvious as this.

"You're crazy," Donghyuck whispers, tracing the shape of the moon on one of the bands with his finger. "You are absolutely out of your mind."

"They're just bracelets," Jeno says, but it falls flat. They both know they are much more than just a piece of jewelry. 

Donghyuck glares at him, the effect lost in his teary eyes. “You’re looking to get us caught.”

“No,” Jeno shakes his head firmly. “I saw these today and thought that the one with the sun would look nice on you. The seller insisted I bought both, so I did. You don’t have to wear it.”

As if. Donghyuck scoffs and slides the bracelet onto his wrist with purpose, still glaring at his Prince. Jeno allows himself to grin at his antics.

**☆☆☆**

Renjun wakes up in the wee hours of the morning with a hankering for something sweet.

He briefly thinks about asking the guards outside his room to fetch something from the kitchen, but then he hears their quiet snoring and decides otherwise. Besides, it is entirely too early for anyone to be at the kitchen, let alone cooking.

Staring at the intrinsic patterns on the ceiling, Renjun weighs his options. He could wait until dawn and ask for a snack before breakfast, but he discards such ideas as soon as his stomach rumbles in protest.

That leaves him with one viable choice: sneaking out to the kitchen and stealing something sweet from the pantry.

Renjun isn't exactly a stranger to sneaking around the Castle. He kicks off the covers and puts on his slippers, grabbing the robe at the foot of the bed and sliding the silk garment over his shoulders. He ducks out of his chambers as quietly as he can, careful not to disturb the knights keeping guard, and only sprints once he’s out of their hearing range.

Given it is the dead of night still, he doesn’t run into anyone in his path, and he’s outside the kitchen within minutes. He walks in, bypassing the cooking stoves and the oven, and heads for the pantry around the counter.

There, he is surprised to find Jisung. The boy doesn’t seem to have noticed him, mixing batter over one of the marble counters, a speck of flour on his hair. Renjun pauses at the entryway, watching Jisung in his element.

“I know you’re there,” Jisung says after a minute, finally looking up from the batter. “I heard you come into the kitchen.”

Renjun smiles, shuffling further in. His pajama bottoms drag across the stone floor but he doesn’t spare them a second thought. He props his elbows on the tall counter and leans forward to catch a glimpse of what he’s making, but it doesn’t look like anything yet.

“What are you making?” he asks. 

“Just a simple cake,” Jisung shrugs. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Jisung shakes his head. Renjun asked mostly to make sure, but he knows Jisung bakes in the dead of night when he can’t sleep. He can’t remember the last time he did it, though, since he got over his nightmares when they were fifteen years old. 

“I woke up starving,” Renjun groans and slumps over the counter. He plays up the dramatics to maybe earn some compassion, but Jisung doesn’t seem to care much. Renjun pouts and waits until he notices, laughing at Jisung’s roll of his eyes. “Can I have some batter?”

Jisung sighs, as if it’s such a hassle, but he scoops some batter with a spoon. Renjun leans closer and takes the spoon into his mouth, moaning in delight at the taste. He garbles out some praises to Jisung’s skills and Jisung blushes, waving him off.

“Do you have any plans for today?” Renjun asks. 

He figures Jisung isn’t up for much conversation, but he isn’t one to sit in silence, so he tries to at least make chit chat. 

“My dad said they have a busy day in the kitchen today,” Jisung says. He’s now working on the icing, Renjun guesses. “He said he might need my help so he wants me to be around, just in case.”

“Is something important happening today?”

Jisung stares at him. Renjun blinks back.

“You’re the prince,” Jisung says slowly. “Shouldn’t you know if there is anything important happening?”

“I never know what is happening in the Castle,” Renjun says, shrugging it off. “Sometimes a maid comes to fetch me for dinners I hadn’t been told we were having, it’s no big deal.”

Jisung hums, filling the baking tray with the batter and putting it in the oven. He’s frowning, though, as if what Renjun said worries him. Renjun waits to see if he will say anything about it, though he doubts it. 

Which is why he is pleasantly surprised when Jisung asks, “Doesn’t that bother you? Not knowing?”

Renjun thinks about it. Does he find it bothersome when the maids show up in his chambers with fancy clothes and rush him to dress? Yes. But he doesn’t think it matters much, in the end. He’s the Crown Prince and it is his duty to please his parents and the court. 

That doesn’t change just because it is inconvenient for him.

“It bothers me a bit,” Renjun admits, swiping some icing from the bowl with his finger. “But it isn’t the end of the world. I can handle it.”

Jisung nods in understanding. They sit in companionable silence for a while, with Renjun stealing some more icing until Jisung slaps his hand away with a playful glare, and then Renjun has to find something else with which to distract himself. 

“Jisung,” Renjun says, softer than before. He waits for the boy to turn his head to him before he continues. “You know I value your opinion highly.”

“Yes?”

Renjun fidgets, feeling odd to be asking such a thing of his young friend, who has never had to deal with royal life. Ever since they were kids, Renjun has taken care not to involve Jisung too much in that aspect of his life, not because he doesn’t think Jisung could handle it, but because he loves having a safe space to turn to when he wants to feel like a kid, and not like a prince.

It might not have been a conscious effort from the beginning, but ever since Renjun turned of age, more and more he ensures he will have Jisung, if all else fails.

But this is something for which he needs him.

“You have spent time with both Princes since their arrival,” he says, uncaring that he’s stalling. “You must have an opinion on them.”

“I do,” Jisung confirms, the slightest frown forming on his face. Renjun doesn’t think twice about pressing the pad of his finger to the centre of Jisung’s forehead and rubbing it away, readjusting Jisung’s glasses that are beginning to slip from his nose. 

His robe slips off one shoulder, exposing his skin to the cold morning air of the kitchen, and he shivers before shrugging it back on. He notes Jisung’s cheeks are beginning to pink, most likely from the chill.

“Don’t worry so much,” Renjun tells him. “I just want to know what you think of them.”

“Oh.”

Jisung, for all his sweetness and shy fumbling when in crowded rooms, is a very intuitive young man. In fact, Renjun thinks he might be the smartest of their little trio, and it is in moments like this that he remembers that. Jisung doesn’t blurt out the first thing to come to mind when Renjun asks him something, but rather thinks before he speaks. 

“Prince Jeno is very kind,” Jisung says, eyes trained on the counter in concentration. “We have both heard of his military tactics, and I will admit I expected him to be very… uptight, and serious, but he isn’t. Yes, he is smart and could probably conquer kingdom after kingdom if he so desired, but he is also friendly, and he takes genuine interest in what others have to say.”

Renjun nods along to his words. He agrees with Jisung in that regard; he thought he wouldn’t have anything in common with a Prince with so many badges and medals pinned to his chest, but they share so much common ground, they can talk for hours. 

“As for Prince Mark,” Jisung continues, “I feel the same. I didn’t know much about him when they arrived and I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I have taken a liking to him. He jokes around with the staff and has everyone in the Castle wrapped around his finger, but he doesn’t use that to his advantage. He never demands for anything and is always willing to lend a helping hand, even if he doesn’t have to.

“And,” here Jisung pauses, as if weighing his words carefully. “I don’t know if this is of particular importance to you, but all the girls in the Castle are comfortable around them.”

That much Renjun noticed. In the past, they have received visitors from all across the land, and not all of them have been the most savory of guests. From his mother’s ladies in waiting to the maids and kitchen staff, he’s seen and overheard many of the women complain about some of the lords and royal family members. 

He hasn’t heard anything but good words and praise about his possible fiances. 

“Thank you,” Renjun nods. “I needed to hear someone else’s thoughts.”

“At your service,” Jisung bows, though there is a playful glint in his eyes as he does. Behind closed doors, he doesn’t appear terrified of breaking protocol. Renjun likes that. “The cake is ready, would you like a slice?”

They eat in companionable silence for a bit. First, Jisung allows Renjun to do the honours of layering the icing on the cake, and then they cut a slice for each and sit at a wooden table in the far back. Renjun guesses this where some of the staff must have their meals if they can’t or don’t have time to go back to their quarters. It has a window perhaps a meter above their heads, and the first rays of sunlight shine on them when they’re done eating.

Just as they’re about to go their separate ways, a thought strikes Renjun.

“Jisung, why don’t you come stay with me?”

To his credit, Jisung avoids tripping on air. He whirls around and stares at the prince in shock, ears pink.

“What?”

“We used to have sleepovers all the time,” Renjun pouts, tugging on Jisung’s sleeve. He doesn’t care how childish it might be. “Come on.”

Jisung, though he tries to protest in order to save face, is already falling in line behind the prince. Renjun grins in victory and guides him to his chambers, reminding him to keep quiet in order not to wake the guards.

“We may only have a few hours to nap before someone comes looking for me,” Renjun says, a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“That’s fine,” Jisung mumbles. 

Renjun climbs into his bed and settles on one side, patting the free space next to him. “Go on, it’s okay. You know no one cares.”

Jisung does know this, Renjun thinks. As kids, the three of them would often crash on the same bed, normally Renjun’s, after a long day of playing around. Even as awkward teenagers, back when they were yet to grow into their long limbs, they would curl around each other on one surface.

Renjun can’t pinpoint when they stopped doing it, but he regrets it. He misses having Jisung mumbling in his sleep next to him, and he thinks fondly of how Jaemin would wake at the slightest noise, always on guard to protect them. 

Jisung crawls under the covers with him, laying his head on a pillow and sighing as he closes his eyes. Renjun does his best to hold back an excited smile before wiggling closer, laughing quietly at Jisung’s expression.

“Have a good… nap sleep,” Renjun giggles. 

Jisung grumbles something that must be a response. Renjun falls back asleep with a smile on his face.

**☆☆☆**

Jaemin didn’t expect to find anything out of the ordinary when he went to wake Prince Renjun. This is why he pauses mid-step at the sight of two human-shaped bumps under the covers where he would normally find one.

Before he can begin to assume the worst, however, a familiar pair of glasses glint from the bedside table and he relaxes. Jaemin resumes his strides and stands over the bed, wondering if he should wake Jisung first or not. Jisung is certainly more pliant in the mornings, and it would be easier to coax him into a sitting position.

Nevertheless, the Queen requested her son’s presence in her private parlour for breakfast, and the Prince takes entirely too long to wake in the mornings.

Having made up his mind, Jaemin locates Prince Renjun’s shoulder and shakes him awake. 

“Your Highness,” he calls, careful not to speak too loudly and spook him. He knows the Prince scares easily while half-asleep. “Wake up.”

Prince Renjun blinks his eyes open blearily, groaning at the sunlight and attempting to become one with his mattress again. Jaemin suppresses a smile and tries again, insisting until Prince Renjun sits up in bed.

“What time is it?” he croaks, rubbing his eyes with his fist. 

Jaemin tamps down words that should never leave his lips and says, “It is after dawn, your Highness. Her Royal Majesty wishes to have breakfast with you.”

Prince Renjun nods and continues to sit there for another minute or two, staring off into nothingness. Jaemin is certain he’s fallen asleep like that, but doesn’t rush him yet. Instead, he goes to the other side of the bed and tries to wake Jisung.

“Come on, Jisunggie,” he coos, grinning at Jisung’s sleepy attempts to paw at him. “It’s time to wake up. His Highness has to go.”

Jisung shoots up in bed, looking widely at the room around him. Memories of last night visibly crash down on him and he remembers where he is, and it is far too endearing in Jaemin’s mind.

“I’m awake,” Jisung mumbles repeatedly, wiping at the crust in the corner of his eye. “I’m going.”

“You can stay,” Prince Renjun waves him off, half-heartedly pushing Jisung back down into the mattress. “It’s alright, you were up late. Go back to sleep.”

Jaemin listens to them argue back and forth while he putters around the room in search for something the Prince can wear. Minghao woke up sick today and asked Jaemin to fill in for him for the day, and Jaemin is more than happy to help.

He finds an attire he knows the Prince is fond of, all white save for the red and blue accents, and he thinks the Queen will appreciate it, too. Queen Chengxiao has always been vocal about how she thinks the colour white fits her son better than any other, and so Jaemin thinks it is a safe bet. 

Jaemin returns to the sleeping area of the Prince’s chambers to the same scenario as before: Jisung attempting to crawl out of bed and Prince Jisung tugging on his arm to keep him in place.

“I will run your bath,” Jaemin announces, going largely ignored. He rolls his eyes (which he would never do outside of these four walls) and proceeds to the bathroom. He opens the tab, twisting the knob until he’s satisfied with the water’s temperature, and moves to find the soap and rosemary water.

It is an easy routine, one Jaemin is familiar with since years ago. He doesn’t often do this, considering Prince Renjun has chambermaids and a dresser and a handful of other servants to do it for him, but he finds he enjoys helping when it’s needed for him. He didn’t have to send the help away when they walked into the chamber, but he wanted to.

The bath is done and Prince Renjun is finally awake, pulling on his sleep robes to exit his bed, most likely chilly. Jaemin crosses the room and pulls the windows shut to keep the chilly air out of the room. 

“Your bath is ready, Your Highness.”

Jisung takes that as his cue to leave, scampering through the door leading to Jaemin’s sleep chambers with a quiet goodbye. Prince Renjun pads to the bathroom and Jaemin follows him, taking the robe from him and hanging it on a hook. 

Later, while their guests have breakfast together, Jaemin informs them of the Prince’s whereabouts. 

“He also has a full day of lectures with Lord Nakamoto,” Jaemin adds, “Since he has dismissed other lessons in the past weeks.”

“That’s alright,” Prince Jeno pipes up. Jaemin glances at him, feeling a strange sense of pleasure as the prince gulps and avoids eye contact. “I also have lessons with His Grace today.”

“May I join?” Prince Mark asks. 

There is a second of silence before the other royal agrees. 

Secretly, Jaemin wonders what is the history between them. He doesn’t like to engage in gossip, always turning down the servants when they try to rope him into their hush hush conversations, but he will admit he’s tempted to ask about their guests.

Jisung surely knows. He’s never been able to avoid the claws of the likes of Yeji and Hyunjin. 

With the Princes at their respective lessons, scattered around the library, Jaemin invites Chenle and Donghyuck to join him and Jisung in the staff quarters. 

“Do you play chess?” Jisung asks them, pulling his set out from underneath his bed. Above it, on the little windowsill, sits the bouquet of flowers Donghyuck gifted him. They’re starting to wilt, but they are still cared for. Donghyuck lights up when he sees them.

“I do,” Chenle nods. 

Jaemin takes up residence on Jisung’s half-made bed, discarding his boots on the ground. Jisung’s father keeps his side of the room neat, very organised, while Jisung’s half is the picture perfect of a young boy. 

While the two youngest sit on the wooden table and begin their match, Donghyuck perches next to Jaemin. The bed is only so big and their shoulders press together, Donghyuck’s warmth seeping into Jaemin’s body.

“Listen,” Donghyuck starts, keeping his voice low as not to alert the boys. Jaemin knows where this is headed. “About what you saw.”

“I don’t want to know,” Jaemin interrupts him, harsher than intended. He has tried to be friendlier to them, to try to see things from their point of view, but he can’t. He can’t understand why the Prince would risk a high-profile engagement and alliance for a rump on the sheets. 

“You have to hear what I have to say,” Donghyuck insists, clamping a hand down on Jaemin’s thigh. 

Jaemin jerks away from the touch. His heart races unreasonably fast in his chest and he stares wide-eyed at Donghyuck, and Donghyuck frowns, hurt at his reaction. 

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck says, keeping his hands to himself. “I just need you to listen to me.”

“What?” Jaemin hisses. 

He doesn’t know what it is about Donghyuck that has him so on the defensive. Maybe it’s the easy way he shows affection to those around him, seemingly uncaring about appearances. Jaemin can only thank the heavens Donghyuck can reel himself in when it comes to Prince Jeno.

“It isn’t what you think it is,” Donghyuck mumbles. He’s too close to Jaemin, warm breath on Jeamin’s ear and neck, and Jaemin makes a conscious effort not to flinch away. “I know what it looks like, but it isn’t like that.”

“If you think I will believe that the two of you aren’t about to ruin everything their families have worked for,” Jaemin threatens.

“No.”

Jaemin looks at him. Donghyuck’s eyes burn with fiery determination and an underlying layer of something Jaemin can’t name.

“This is just as important to Jeno as it is to Renjun,” Donghyuck murmurs, ditching royal titles as if nothing. “Believe me when I say he isn’t looking to ruin it.”

Jaemin holds eye contact for another moment. 

“Do you know why the Princes act so strangely with each other?” Jaemin asks. 

Donghyuck blinks in surprise. He most likely didn’t expect Jaemin to reply, regardless of how off-topic his question was. Jaemin watches his face as he thinks, weighing his options before he says, “They were betrothed in their youth, but Mark’s brother called off the engagement when their parents passed. We never knew why.”

Jaemin watches him carefully for another moment. Donghyuck, reading the thoughts that must be plainly written on his face, gapes and sputters. 

“It wasn’t because of  _ me _ ,” he hisses, narrowing his eyes. “Jeno and I weren’t even‒ do you always have to think the worst of me?”

That feels like a slap to the face. Jaemin doesn’t know what to say, especially because he knows Donghyuck is right; he assumed the worst. 

Jaemin assumed that their previous engagement was called off because of Jeno’s fling with him, and he was ready to berate him for it. 

Before he can even begin to apologise, words building in the back of his throat, Donghyuck huffs and stands up. 

“I’m sorry,” he says to Jisung and Chenle, the two boys blissfully unaware of their argument. “I have to go, I forgot I promised Jungwoo I would help him prepare His Highness’s outfit.”

With that, Donghyuck flees from the room. Jisung and Chenle stare at his retreating back in shock, then turn identical quizzical looks to Jaemin. 

Jaemin doesn’t know what to tell them, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

**☆☆☆**

“Just a little further,” Renjun says, looking at Prince Mark over his shoulder.

The Prince hums, an easy-going smile ever present on his face as he follows Renjun through the gardens. Renjun avoids stepping on patches of flowers, dead leaves and sticks crunching under their feet as they walk, until they finally reach their destination.

Renjun fidgets nervously once they stand next to the pond, far from prying eyes. Prince Mark stares at the foliage around them, eyes drinking in every flower and leaf, and Renjun feels his nerves lessen just so with the confirmation that he likes it.

“This is,” Renjun starts to say, shy, “my private place. No one ever comes here other than me. And Jaemin, when he’s looking for me.”

“It’s beautiful,” Prince Mark praises. “Do you care for it yourself?”

“No,” Renjun shakes his head. “No one does. They receive enough sunlight and water naturally, however.”

Prince Mark looks at him. There is something Renjun can’t place on his face, and he avoids thinking about it.

“This isn’t all I wanted to show you,” he blurts out. Prince Mark raises his eyebrows in surprise and Renjun feels himself turn pink. 

Instead of elaborating with words, Renjun unties the cape around his shoulders and lays it on the grass, motioning at the Prince to lie down before he does it himself. 

He can tell when Prince Mark realises what he means by his gasp and Renjun smiles in triumph, gazing up at the night sky. The stars twinkle like diamonds above them, bright and clear against the dark backdrop. 

“I like coming here sometimes,” Renjun whispers, as if it’s a secret. He supposes it is. “It’s quiet and far from… everything else.”

“Thank you for sharing it with me,” Prince Mark says, turning his head to look at him. Renjun meets his gaze and smiles before returning to the skies, as does the Prince.

If anyone were to ask, Renjun would not be able to say why he chose to show Prince Mark to his private abode. In his heart of hearts, he knows it’s because the Prince makes him feel safe and at ease, just how the little pond does. 

He doesn’t think he could say that aloud, but he tucks the knowledge someplace in his chest. 

“Your Highness‒”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Mark?” he interrupts playfully.

“Mark,” Renjun tries again, smiling. “I wanted to say that I enjoy your company very much, and that I’m glad you came.”

“So do I,” Mark says. “Regardless of how things turn out, I am happy we met.”

Renjun’s grin hurts his cheeks. Between their bodies, Renjun finds Mark’s hand and, as slowly as he can, locks his pinky with his. Mark doesn’t say anything, but he fixes their hold so they’re holding hands properly. 

“I overheard some of the staff speaking,” Renjun speaks, suddenly feeling the urge to fill the silence. “My parents are planning a masquerade party for the night before you leave.”

“I heard,” Mark hums. “I didn’t bring anything that you would wear for a masquerade party so Chenle and I are going to the village this weekend to buy something appropriate.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. My mother will take any chance to throw a party, you just happen to be her latest excuse.”

“Still,” Mark insists, “I want to look good.”

Renjun wants to tell him he always looks good, and that he’s one of the most handsome men he knows. He doesn’t.

“I’m sure Minghao can help you,” is what he says. “He likes to play dress up and I already have plenty of party clothes. I will tell him to go to the village with you.”

They stay by the pond for a while longer, talking about little things that come to mind. Renjun babbles on and on without realising he’s doing it, and Mark listens without fail, humming along and asking questions when he finds it necessary. 

Their hands remain locked, Mark’s thumb rubbing the back of his hand idly. It’s sweet, and it fills Renjun with a feeling he doesn’t know to name. 

They stay like that until they’re too tired to remain awake and retire to their separate chambers.

Even then, however, Renjun can’t sleep. He tosses and turns in bed for far too long until he gives up, forgoing his slippers and his robe and padding toward Jaemin’s sleeping chambers.

“Jaemin, are you still awake?” he asks, knocking briefly on the door. He doesn’t wait for a response and waltzes in. 

Jaemin is awake, in fact, though only barely. Renjun trips over air when he catches a glimpse of bare chest, averting his eyes immediately.

“Did something happen?” Jaemin is sitting up, reaching for his sword even with his eyes still half-closed, ready to defend Renjun from an invisible threat. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. I’m sorry I startled you,” Renjun whispers, treading closer. “There is nothing wrong.”

Jaemin deflates, dropping his sword on the ground again. His bed sheets pool around his waist, leaving little to the imagination, and Renjun makes an effort to breathe normally. 

“Why are you here?” Jaemin sighs, looking at him tiredly. 

Renjun shuffles his feet anxiously and shrugs. “I don’t know. I can’t sleep and I thought I would come here,” he trails off.

Jaemin gives him another look. Renjun feels foolish all of a sudden, like a kid, and he wishes he could turn back time to stop himself from barging in here. 

“Do you,” Jaemin starts, licking his lips, “Do you want to sleep here?”

Renjun stands to attention, nodding eagerly. Jaemin shuffles to the side and makes room for him, moving the covers so Renjun can climb in. Renjun crawls under the sheets, careful not to touch Jaemin too much, but their sides still brush together before Jaemin flinches and scoots further away. 

It’s different to sleeping with Jisung. With Jisung, Renjun didn’t hesitate to cuddle closer, even if Jisung gave half-hearted complaints. With Jaemin, Renjun sticks to his side of the bed and doesn’t dare move an inch, hyper aware of Jaemin’s half-naked body three inches away from him and of the warmth he gives off.

Renjun huffs and gets comfortable on his side, looking at Jaemin’s side profile. His knight is awake, his breathing an easy giveaway, but his eyes stay closed, hands folded over his sternum. Renjun allows himself to trace his features with his eyes, going as far as his torso, the scars from training hours and hours on end stark against pale skin, before closing his eyes.

He isn’t getting any sleep with the image of Jaemin lying beside him burned to the inside of his eyelids, he thinks. Not with Jaemin so close yet so far out of reach, as rigid and as terrified as Renjun feels.

And yet Renjun falls asleep not ten minutes later, lulled by Jaemin’s steady breathing and the comfort of knowing he’s safe with him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting next chapter we have more revelations....more drama, more angst....i am very excited about this hehe
> 
> lemme know what you think!! what was your favourite scene?? is there any ship or anyone you would like to see more??


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you think there is…?” he trails off. He can’t bring himself to utter the words. 
> 
> “I don’t know,” Mark says with finality. His eyes burn into Chenle’s, passing along a message that must not be said aloud, ever. “Perhaps they are good friends.”
> 
> “Right,” Chenle says, faking a tone of security and nonchalance he doesn’t truly feel. “Silly me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOWDY PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT THE TAGS :DDD AND MAKE SURE TO READ THE ENDING NOTES THANK YOU

It isn’t a hard feat to bypass the Castle’s security. A majority of the guards, while strong and well-trained, don’t seem to think there is any danger within these walls. Mark confessed to hearing the night guards snoring outside his chambers on more than one occasion, something the guards back home wouldn’t dare do.

Chenle is grateful for such lax security, because it allows him to sneak into Mark’s sleeping rooms without much fuss. The Prince is waiting for him, hunched over his work desk with endless scrolls in front of him, reading glasses low on his nose and dark bags under his eyes. Chenle’s heart aches for his friend, knowing that he’s taken the position of Crown Prince harder than anyone expected.

“I thought I told you to stop reading those papers after midnight,” Chenle scolds gently, making room for himself on the chair opposite to the Prince. Mark barely looks up, bloodshot eyes glancing at Chenle before they go back to their duty. “You’re too tired to comprehend what you’re reading.”

“Only one more scroll and then I’m done,” Mark says. Even his voice sounds awful, scratchy and disused. Chenle grimaces. “This one is from a farmer that lost all their sheep to some wild animal. They’re asking for a loan from the Castle to survive until they can raise a new family of sheeps.”

Chenle sits back and lets him work. While King Johnny is more than capable of dealing with these issues (and, if not, then Queen Irene), they fall to Mark as a way for him to practice. Regardless of how young his brother and sister-in-law may be, and how many more years they are expected to reign, Mark knows there is no guarantee. 

If fate would have it, Mark could become the King of his country tomorrow morning, and that means he won’t allow himself to slack off on his duties. Even if it kills him in the process.

“Was there anything in particular you wanted to discuss?” Mark asks, making light conversation as he skims the last lines on the scroll. 

Chenle fails to reply for a minute, during which Mark grabs the last piece of blank paper left on his desk and starts to formulate a response to the plea. A grant, no question. 

“Can’t I just want to spend some time with my best friend?”

Mark raises an eyebrow at him. Chenle scowls, knowing he came off far too defensive and fake for the Prince to buy it. 

“Not past midnight, no,” Mark deadpans. 

“I,” Chenle starts, hesitating. “I wanted to check in on you. Since we didn’t plan on seeing him here, and all that.”

With the loan granted, the scroll laid out to dry on the desk and everything else pushed to the side, Mark doesn’t have any excuses to delay the conversation. He could always use the Prince card, remind Chenle that it isn’t any of his business, but he won’t. That isn’t how they work.

“Shouldn’t you have asked me this roughly three months ago?” Mark asks instead, looking away.

Beyond the windows, snow begins to fall gently. It doesn’t snow often in the Huang kingdom, too far south, and rain is much more typical during winter, but Prince Renjun mentioned how sometimes they have a day or two of light snow toward the middle of December. 

“I did,” Chenle reminds him. “You wouldn’t give me an answer.”

Mark sighs. Chenle feels bad for putting his friend through this, and he’s ready to drop the subject, to ask him to forget he asked, but Mark beats him to it.

“I knew he would hate me still,” Mark admits. He leans back on his chair, eyes trained on the large windows behind Chenle. “I can’t say I blame him. I never gave him an explanation for running out on him.”

Chenle bites down on his bottom lip, nails scratching at his thighs over his cotton pants. The guilt he felt three years ago is just as strong today. 

“But I don’t mind,” Mark finishes. “As long as he doesn’t treat you any differently, I’m okay with carrying the burden.”

Typical Mark. Willing to be the scapegoat, to pay the price for other people’s mistakes. Chenle wants to huff, to roll his eyes at him. Instead, all he can do is nod feebly and keep his thoughts to himself. 

The carpet in Mark’s chambers is fine. Chenle kicks off his shoes and runs his socked feet over the fabric, tracing one shape after another, unwilling to look up again. Mark goes back to his duties, pulling out another scroll from Lord knows where, and Chenle has half a mind to reprimand him for it. 

But he doesn’t. Chenle lets his mind wander, thoughts running away from him, his big toe pressing over a bulkier area of the carpet until he feels the beginnings of a friction burn on his skin and he lets up. 

Only the sound of Mark’s quill scratching over paper accompanies Chenle for the following minutes, and when he’s back to himself, Mark is there to pick up conversation as if nothing happened.

“Have you noticed anything odd about the Prince and Donghyuck?” Chenle asks. 

Mark hums, nodding indifferently. “I have, yes. They were always close but lately they’ve been acting strange.”

Chenle nods as well, weighing his words carefully. 

“Do you think there is…?” he trails off. He can’t bring himself to utter the words. 

“I don’t know,” Mark says with finality. His eyes burn into Chenle’s, passing along a message that must not be said aloud, ever. “Perhaps they are good friends.”

“Right,” Chenle says, faking a tone of security and nonchalance he doesn’t truly feel. “Silly me.”

“Mistakes can happen,” Mark shrugs. 

Chenle mumbles back something that he means to be a form of agreement, but comes out strangled and unsure. 

They lapse into silence once more, but this one is far more charged than the previous one. Chenle, though he doesn’t get lost in his mind again, loses focus, his eyes staring off into nothing as he thinks of the implications in Mark’s words.

_ Mark suspects there is something between Prince Jeno and Donghyuck. Something big enough to be kept a secret. Something that can’t be said in fear of people hearing.  _

Chenle closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. There is nothing to gain from feeling upset about this, after all. They don’t know why Mark broke off the engagement, and Mark promised he would take the secret to his grave, much as Chenle has vowed to himself that he would.

“Have you heard of the masquerade party?” It’s nothing more than a futile attempt to diffuse the strange air in the room, a sort of peace offering to Mark for possibly upsetting him earlier. 

“Yes,” Mark nods. Long fingers card through his hair, for once devoid of their typical jeweled accessory. Chenle thinks Mark looks much younger when he doesn’t wear his crown. “Prince Renjun offered to send his stylist with us to the village to help us find something appropriate for the event.”

“I’m sure we could find something on our own,” Chenle says, miffed. 

Mark laughs at his expression, shaking his head. “I asked, Chenle. Neither of us brought anything fitting for a party thrown by Queen Chengxiao, even though we should have seen it coming. His Highness was just being helpful.”

Chenle schools his expression into something less bothered. Prince Renjun just wanted to help, he knows, and he appreciates it. He simply doesn’t like this feeling — as if he failed Mark, somehow, by not foreseeing a party during their stay. 

“Have you chosen a day to go?” Chenle asks. Anything to rid himself of the bad taste in his mouth. 

“I thought tomorrow would be nice, but seeing as it is starting to snow…”

Chenle waves off his concerns. “Nonsense, tomorrow is fine. It doesn’t snow here like it does back home.”

That much is true. Were they still in their hometown, the grounds would be covered in white, the snow too thick to walk outside without heavy boots and heavier fur coats to keep the cold at bay. Chenle thinks back to the endless snow fights they would have as children, Prince Jeno and Donghyuck joining them on the few occasions they visited them during the holidays.

He can’t say he doesn’t miss those days, because he does, but things are alright now, too. Chenle has had a great time in this kingdom and he knows Mark has, as well. Even if Mark freezes whenever Prince Jeno walks into the room, and Prince Jeno looks as if he swallowed a lemon when he sees him. 

Or, at least, he used to look like that. Chenle has noticed the change in his attitude, the way he seems more relaxed, but he doesn’t know what it means.

“You should go to sleep,” Chenle says eventually. The clock on the wall ticks its way to one in the morning, far too late for either of them to be awake. “We have to wake up early to go to the village.”

For once, Mark doesn’t argue with him on the matter. The Prince nods, stretching his arms above his head, his thin sleeping shirt riding up to reveal a short trail of fuzzy hair and a lean torso before he lowers them again, groaning as something in his back pops and locks into place.

“That’s what you get for staying up so late,” Chenle shoots, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels.

Mark, in a move he would never dare to pull if they were anywhere else at any other time, copies him with a mocking tone. Chenle rolls his eyes at his childishness, happy that the weird sensation in his tummy is gone. 

**☆☆☆**

The kitchen bustles with life. Everyone has some place to be, something to do, and no one has a second to breathe. After all, the masquerade party is upon them, two days away, and there are too many things to do before then.

Jisung ducks to avoid the tray of chicken legs one of the cooks is carrying to the oven, then side-steps so as not to collide with a baker and her sweets. His father is calling out to him from the far end of the kitchen, undoubtedly to ask for his help with a dish, but Jisung doubts he could reach him unscathed. He fears he will bump into someone and cause a domino effect that ends with their efforts.

(It’s a silly concern, he tries to tell himself. Everyone is being careful, even through their frazzled haze, and the chances of him ruining everything are very slim. Still, he worries.)

“You called for me?” Jisung asks. 

His father nods without looking up from his work station, kneading a large mass of dough into submission. “I was preparing the bread when I remembered I have to go to the hen house and grab more eggs. Because apparently I must do everything myself around here,” he grumbles to himself.

Jisung smiles at his words but doesn’t say anything.

“Do you think you can handle this yourself?” his father asks. It’s a question made out of pure manners, because he knows Jisung can do this and more. “It’s only bread, no need to add anything special.”

“I can do it,” Jisung says, gently pushing his father out of the way. The man goes without protest, wiping his hands on his apron.

He’s about to leave the kitchen when one of the cooks calls out to him, her usual jovial voice replaced by a harried one as she practically shouts across the kitchen, “Taeil!”

Jisung’s father sighs, but turns to her as prompted. She rushes to him, avoiding platters of food and fire, white hair falling out of her bun in her haste. Jisung has known her his entire life, with her being one of the oldest cooks in the Castle, and he knows her seniority is the only reason she can get away with calling his father by his given name. Everyone else calls him Chef Moon or, on occasions, Chef Park.

That only happens if they happen to meet Jisung first, not knowing he goes by his mother’s name. 

The cook speaks at neck-breaking speed, following Chef Moon out of the kitchen, and Jisung doesn’t have time to wonder what has her so upset. He returns to his task at hand, going through the simple motions of making bread while humming to himself.

More than familiar, the task is comforting. Even in the disastrous zone of the kitchen, with everyone yelling and rushing around the admittedly enclosed space, Jisung relaxes. His hands know the work better than he knows anything else and his mind detaches, thinking about nothing as he finishes the first batch.

He’s getting started on another one when his father returns, carrying a large crate of eggs, and a boy around Jisung’s age trailing after him with enough carrots to feed a small army. 

“Jisung, meet Hyunsuk,” Chef Moon introduces them, jerking his head in the direction of the boy. “He’s new. Hyunsuk, this is my son Jisung. He can show you the ropes around the kitchen.”

Hyunsuk is polite, if a little awkward. Jisung can tell he isn’t very used to the formal aspects of the Castle, stumbling along his pleasantries, but Jisung doesn’t mind.

“You don’t need to be so formal with me,” he tells him, guiding him to a quieter area of the kitchen. “You can call me Jisung. I’ll introduce you to the other kitchen workers throughout the day.”

“Thank you,” Hyunsuk sighs, clearly relieved. Jisung grins and shows him to a small table where they set up, ready to wash and peel vegetables until someone tells them to stop. “Is it… always this busy?”

Jisung can’t help his laughter, giggling into his hand at Hyunsuk’s bewildered expression. “No, not really. You just happened to join the crew two days before a party, and Her Royal Majesty is… extravagant. Her parties always end with the staff rushing around.”

Jisung doesn’t mention how someone always has a breakdown, without fail. Or how often that someone happens to be either Minghao or his father. Once, it was the Queen herself, and Jisung remembers feeling utterly helpless while she cried in the middle of the kitchen. 

That was a weird day. 

Hyunsuk is quick to pick up on the job, and he doesn’t even cut himself with the sharp peeler as he works. Jisung is impressed, and a little jealous, because his fingers begin to sport red knicks from where he gets too careless. 

Their quiet bubble of peace is broken, however, when a loud flurry of limbs crashes into Jisung from the side. Jisung startles, almost dropping the carrot in his hands, but he relaxes when he recognises the boy.

“Chenle,” he sighs, not doing much to shrug him off. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” Chenle laughs, not sounding sorry at all. Jisung shakes his head, not bothering to fight off the smile on his face, and motions for the boy to take the spare seat on the table. “I was looking for you everywhere! What are we doing?”

“We’re peeling,” Jisung informs him. He doesn’t have to say anything for Chenle to join in on the task, picking up a stray peeler and a potato from the crate. Hyunsuk watches him warily for a second before going back to his work. “Chenle, this is Hyunsuk. He’s new in the staff. Hyunsuk, this is Chenle, he’s Prince Mark’s personal servant.”

Jisung admittedly hesitated toward the end, unsure if servant would be the right word. He’s seen how close they are, and he knows the Prince has referred to Chenle as his best friend multiple times, but for formality’s sake, he must have some title. 

He sneaks a look at Chenle after he’s done speaking, but thankfully he doesn’t appear bothered in the slightest, only offering his pleasantries to Hyunsuk while working diligently. Jisung releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The three continue to work in relative silence, interrupted only whenever a kitchen staff member comes by to pick up or drop off vegetables. Jisung, however, knows Chenle can’t keep quiet for long. 

“What’s with all the carrots?” he asks. 

“It’s a bit of a Castle tradition,” Jisung shrugs, explaining both for Chenle and Hyunsuk’s sake. “Every winter, especially close to Christmas, most meals are prepared with carrots. It’s a bit of a superstition from the King, but the food is always good.”

“Huh,” Chenle mumbles. “What kind of food does the carrot go into?”

“All of it,” Jisung says. 

Chenle makes another sound before frowning. Jisung frowns as well, confused at the sudden drop in his mood, but he doesn’t dare ask. Not in the middle of the busy kitchen, with Hyunsuk desperately trying to pretend like he can’t hear them and the bustling of everyone around them.

The three of them finish peeling the vegetables quickly after that. Hyunsuk is whisked away by another cook to help with the soup and Jisung takes the chance to slip away unnoticed, dragging Chenle along with him by the hand. 

He chooses the shortest path to his room, that is, the not-so-secret passageway behind the pantry. Chenle giggles the entire time, seemingly fascinated with the Castle’s never ending passages and winding hallways, and Jisung can’t help the smile on his face. 

“I wish our palace had secret hallways,” Chenle sighs wistfully as they come to a stop outside of the staff quarters, greeting a few stragglers before diving into Jisung’s room. “There is nowhere to sneak around.”

“We always used to use them, back when we were kids,” Jisung tells him. “We would play hide and seek, and we never failed to end up in different corners of the Castle. It would take hours for the seeker to find the others.”

Chenle, having lost all shyness and precaution around him a long time ago, takes up residence on Jisung’s unmade bed. He grins toothily at Jisung’s eye roll, though Jisung doesn’t tell him off for it. 

“I always heard about Queen Chengxiao’s parties, but seeing it in person is,” Chenle shudders. 

“I know,” Jisung snorts, browsing his desk in search for the deck of cards he received on his birthday. “It’s always like this.”

Now, Jisung loves the Queen, he does. She has always treated him as her own, not once bothered or upset that her son chose to befriend the help rather than someone from a noble family, and she would read bed night stories to them when they were little. 

But he has to admit she can… get carried away with her plans. The Castle is a disaster at the moment, and they still have two more days to go. 

“How did it go in the village?” Jisung asks, spreading the cards on the table. “Did Minghao give you a hard time?"

“He’s a bit terrifying,” Chenle admits. “But he knew where to go and who to talk to, and I don’t think we would have been done so quickly if it weren’t for him.”

“He knows _everyone,_ ” Jisung shakes his head. “I don’t know how he does it.”

“I can’t believe we’re leaving so soon,” Chenle blurts out. His shoulders drop, a gloomy expression taking over his face. 

“Me neither,” Jisung says, sighing. It seems as if only yesterday they arrived, in the midst of a storm and a party, and now they’re leaving again. “But we still have two more days, right?"

“Right,” Chenle beams. It isn’t his usual level of brightness, but it’s better than before. “I can still beat you.”

Jisung actually laughs at his statement, shuffling the cards in his hands. No one can beat him at games of bluff, but it’s sweet that Chenle thinks he can do it in two days. Chenle, eager as always, rushes to sit opposite him and cracks his knuckles. 

“Not even the Prince has beat me,” Jisung reminds him.

Chenle meets his gaze and smirks. “Until now,” he says. 

**☆☆☆**

Renjun tries to mask his surprise when he finds Donghyuck, of all people, waiting for him outside his chambers.

It’s the night of the party and Renjun is nowhere near ready. He had to rush through his class with Lord Nakamoto, solving math equations with less than stellar results and redacting an essay that doesn’t match his usual skills, but he couldn’t afford to entertain the Earl. He has to bathe, dress, and allow Minghao to play with his face and hair. That takes longer than Renjun would desire.

Given how he had to rush through the hallways to reach his chambers, dodging servants and helpers (multiple of which seemed appalled Renjun wasn’t ready yet), his fringe is a little sweaty, hair in disarray. Definitely not how he wants to look in front of Donghyuck.

“Your Highness,” Donghyuck grins, bouncing closer. His smile falters when he notices his state, however, and he frowns. “Shouldn’t you be ready?”

“The Earl held me up,” Renjun says. He does his best to hide the complaints on the tip of his tongue, though he suspects he didn’t do a very good job. “Is there anything you need?”

Donghyuck opens his mouth, then shuts it quickly. “No, I’m sorry, it isn’t important. Please, go ahead.”

He’s about to leave when Renjun stops him, grabbing his wrist and more or less dragging him toward the double doors. “No, no, you can tell me while I dress.”

It wouldn’t be the first time Renjun is naked in front of a stranger, he supposes. And Donghyuck isn’t much of a stranger, not anymore. Donghyuck doesn’t protest, maybe because he’s used to helping Prince Jeno, following him inside the room without a word. 

“I have to bathe first, do you mind filling the tub while I get out of these?” Renjun asks him. 

Donghyuck disappears into the bathroom, and seconds later Renjun hears the gentle gush of water falling from the tap. Renjun does quick work of his clothes, discarding the heavy jacket on the ground and ungracefully kicking off his shoes. Donghyuck returns to the bedroom, standing quietly in the corner with his hands clasped in front of him. 

Renjun glances over his shoulder and beckons him forward. “I need help with the shirt, and you can tell me whatever it was in the meantime.”

It’s an easier job if done by two, Renjun tells himself. This shirt closes by intricate knots on his back, and it only makes sense for Donghyuck to help him undo them. Donghyuck is quick and methodic, taking apart the knots without a problem. Renjun’s breath hitches as Donghyuck’s skin brushes his, no doubt on accident, but he doesn’t say anything.

Donghyuck moves to stand in front of him. Renjun lifts his arms and lets him slide the shirt over his head, watching Donghyuck fold it neatly and place it on the dresser rather than on the floor as Renjun would have done. 

“Do you need help with your pants?” Donghyuck asks. Renjun would be fooled by his tone, would think that Donghyuck is simply going through the motions. He would think Donghyuck doesn’t care.

Except he has spent much of his time with Donghyuck the last two months, and he spots the nervous gulp he gives, how his eyes flicker away from him before he nods. The signs are small, almost not there, but Renjun catches them. They’re standing too close to each other for him to miss them.

Renjun’s hands begin to sweat. 

Donghyuck reaches for his belt, undoing the buckle quickly. Renjun can’t tear his eyes away from Donghyuck’s face, admiring the scattering of moles on his cheeks and the little curls of hair above his forehead and over his ears. He almost misses the doors to his bedchambers opening, but not quite. 

Jaemin stares at them with an unreadable expression on his face. Donghyuck, startled by his sudden appearance, rushes to help Renjun step out of the pants before retreating, metaphorical tail between his legs. 

Renjun doesn’t know why he feels like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to do. 

“Did you need something?” Renjun asks Jaemin, feigning nonchalance. He desperately tamps down the red threatening to climb his cheeks.

Jaemin glances at Donghyuck for a second, and then focuses entirely on Renjun. "I came to help you prepare for the party. Although I see you already found someone else to help."

"I should," Donghyuck stutters, looking at Renjun, "I should go. His Highness must be waiting for me."

He seems to be waiting for a response from Renjun. Once the Prince nods, Donghyuck all but scampers out of the room, bowing before he disappears through the doors. Renjun watches him go and then raises an eyebrow in Jaemin's direction.

"Was that necessary?" he asks.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jaemin replies, too quickly for him to mean it. "Is your bath ready?"

"Donghyuck prepared it. Don't dodge the question."

Jaemin ducks into the bathroom, blatantly ignoring Renjun's inquiry. Renjun allows himself to roll his eyes before going after him. The bath is ready, of course, and Renjun slides under the warm water with a pleased groan.

"Why did you look at Donghyuck like you wanted him gone?" he tries again.

Jaemin keeps his back turned to him. Renjun knows he's twiddling his thumbs, since there is nothing for him to do in the bathroom while Renjun washes up, but he doesn't call him out on it. He keeps his eyes trained on Jaemin's shoulders, waiting for him to speak.

"It's nothing you should worry about," Jaemin says finally.

Renjun is far from pleased with the answer. However, he doesn't have time to do so, and he finishes his bath as quickly and efficiently as he can. He rises from the bath, dripping water on the tiles, and wordlessly takes the towel Jaemin offers him.

Minghao is waiting for them in the middle of the bedchambers, tapping his foot on the floor and looking entirely unamused by Renjun's tardiness.

"It really wasn't my fault this time," Renjun excuses himself. Minghao shakes his head, making it clear he doesn't care, and ushers him to stand in front of the mirror.

If it weren't for Minghao's professionalism, Renjun would have been horribly late to the party. The man dresses him in record time, pushing and prodding at Renjun's body with clothes and bobby pins and needles until he looks like his mother's son, decked out in white and gold.

Minghao holds up two different masks and asks Renjun to choose. One is black and blue, decorated with jewels that glint under the light of the fading sun. The second mask is a deep forest green, small feathers attached to the sides. It's simpler in its design, but just as beautiful.

Renjun hesitates before ultimately choosing the green one, thinking it might be better to avoid capturing so much attention tonight. Minghao helps him put on the mask, and then turns around to browse through the multitude of drawers in search of a bobby pin he can use to keep Renjun's bangs out of his face.

In the meantime, Renjun looks at Jaemin. He's been standing silently in the corner, and it's the first time Renjun notices how he is already dressed for the party, red jacket snug around his shoulders and badges on his chest stark against the fabric.

"Does this look okay?" Renjun asks him. He hates how small his voice sounds.

Jaemin's eyes travel over his body, slow, scorching heat and sweet relief at the same time. Renjun feels pinned under his stare and it takes everything in him not to fidget. Finally, Jaemin's gaze rests on his face.

"You look good," Jaemin says.

While Renjun suppresses a shiver, wholly affected over having Jaemin's attention on him, to hear his praise after weeks of giving him a cold shoulder, Minghao argues that of course he looks good,  _ he _ dressed him.

When he's finally deemed ready for the party, crown secured on his head and mask over his eyes, Minghao leaves first, leaving them alone. Renjun stands there, rooted to the spot, and Jaemin approaches him after a minute of silence.

Renjun didn't know what to expect, but he jerks in surprise when Jaemin reaches out to pull his hair free of its confines. His bangs fall around his face, no lower than his cheekbones, and Jaemin brushes one away with his hand. His thumb brushes Renjun's lips as he pulls away.

"I don't understand his fascination with trapping your hair," Jaemin says, an attempt at a joke.

The knot in Renjun's chest loosens. This is the closest to normalcy they've been in  _ so _ long and he refuses to waste the opportunity.

"He thinks it's better for a Prince to show his forehead," Renjun says. His mouth feels dry.

"I think it's better for a Prince to do as he pleases."

Renjun closes his eyes for a second. When he opens them again, Jaemin is still there, so close yet so far, looking at him with too much in his gaze to describe.

"I'm sorry," Jaemin blurts out, lowering his eyes to the floor. "For acting so strange. I know you must think– well, I can't imagine what you're thinking."

Renjun bites down his knee-jerk reaction to say it's nothing.

"I said I would tell you if there was something you needed to know," Jaemin continues. "And there is."

"What is it?" Renjun asks.

His heart is about to beat out of his chest as Jaemin opens his mouth, the words on the tip of his tongue, and then the doors to his room slam open and in comes his mother. They jump apart as if burnt.

Queen Chengxiao, in her party clothes and mask, is a sight to reckon with. Her dress is silver, covered in jewels that sparkle from every angle, and the skirt appears to be bigger than her. Her mask is gold and black. Beneath all that, Renjun sees a frazzled woman that can't understand why her only son isn't at the party yet.

"You're late!" she chastises him, clicking her tongue. She stands in front of them with her arms crossed and huffs. "Come on, you two, stop dawdling."

They apologize half-heartedly, neither of them pleased with the interruption, but she either doesn't notice or doesn't care. She takes her son's arm in hand and tries to drag him, but he's stronger, so it's really mostly him playing along with her.

Halfway to the ball, however, Renjun breaks free of her hold. "Mom, I really need to talk to Jaemin."

"You two are together all the time," she says, though makes no move to keep rushing him. "What could be so important it can't wait?"

"It isn't," Jaemin interrupts before Renjun can say anything else. "It can wait, your Highness."

Renjun lifts an eyebrow in his direction. Jaemin shakes his head, face impassive. Queen Chengxiao makes a sound of agreement and steps back, beckoning her son to keep moving with her hand even as she walks away.

"I will tell you tomorrow," Jaemin says. It's a promise.

Renjun nods reluctantly, telling himself he won't allow Jaemin to keep running from the conversation.

As they're about to enter the hall, Renjun halts, causing Jaemin to stop abruptly as well. At his knight's questioning frown, Renjun grasps his wrist and asks, "Save me a dance, will you?"

Without waiting for an answer, Renjun walks into the party. 

**☆☆☆**

Jeno takes a flute of champagne off of a tray and sips at the drink. His mask, which Jungwoo prepared for him within hours, is a little large on his face, so he has to be careful not to bump the edge of the glass against it. 

To his side, Jisung watches the decorations intently, as if he’s never seen such a grand display before. Jeno finds that hard to believe, if the boy has grown up within these walls, but he has to admit that this party might be even more extravagant than the one they threw for their arrival. 

“I do hope dinner is soon,” Donghyuck mumbles, bouncing on his feet. His eyes flit distractedly around the room. 

“Are you hungry?” Jeno asks. 

Donghyuck shakes his head distractedly. Jeno frowns but doesn’t question his strange behaviour; if anything, Donghyuck will come to him in due time. Instead, he returns his attention to the nobles in the hall and the lively laughter that rings out.

As the last time, the hall is lit in gold, and there are enough candles to provide perfect lighting. A band plays joyful music from a raised stage toward the back, and people in beautiful gowns and suits dance through the floor, faces covered in colourful masks. 

Jeno’s hand itches to ask Donghyuck to dance with him. 

“I wonder where the Prince is,” Jeno says instead. 

“He was late because of his lessons,” Donghyuck replies. Jisung makes a sound of confusion. “As far as I know, the Earl held him up.”

“That sounds like Lord Nakamoto,” Jisung laughs quietly. 

Jeno hums. A gaggle of girls approaches them, one of them glaringly more nervous than the rest, and Jeno almost braces himself for her to ask him to dance. Until she turns to Jisung, still a bundle of nerves, and asks if he would like to dance. 

It takes a second for Jisung to react, the shock written plainly on his face. He accepts, though, offering his arm to her. Jeno watches them disappear into the crowd, the girl’s friends moving on as well.

“Look at him go,” Donghyuck sighs, smiling playfully. “They grow up so fast.”

Jeno keeps from laughing out of sheer will. He bumps their shoulders, grinning, and Donghyuck bites his lip to stop his laughter from tumbling out. 

“Are you asking His Highness to dance?” Donghyuck asks eventually. 

“Yes,” Jeno says. Beyond them, he catches a glimpse of Jisung twirling around with the girl before he loses sight of him again. “It’s my duty, right?”

“You should ask him because you want to, not because you have to.”

Jeno doesn’t reply. He knows he wants to, but he doesn’t say it. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” is what he says. “His Grace is worried we will be too tired from the party for the trip.”

“Doyoung worries about loose threads on his pajamas,” Donghyuck snorts. “We can sleep on the ride home.”

Jeno nods in agreement. In that moment, he sees the familiar crown belonging to Prince Renjun, Jaemin’s ever-present form trailing behind him, and he knows it’s time for him to put in one last perfect performance. 

His future hangs on this, quite literally. 

But before so, he tugs on Donghyuck’s sleeve and says, “The music sounds loud enough to hear outside, don’t you think? Perhaps as far as our chambers?”

Donghyuck nods, a smile playing at his lips. Jeno allows the idea of dancing with him to linger at the back of his mind for the rest of the night. 

Prince Renjun finds them easily, lured by the crown that sits on Jeno’s head. He beams when he sees them, almost blinding, and he stops in front of them with a swish of his sleeves. 

“Your Highness,” Prince Renjun bows to him first, then to Donghyuck. “I trust you are having a good time.”

“Indeed,” Jeno says, bowing back. His crown nearly slips off his head and he stops it just in time. “This is beautiful.”

“My father asked me to excuse him,” the Prince continues, holding his hands in front of him like a little schoolboy. Jeno thinks it’s cute. “He isn’t feeling very well and won’t join us tonight, I hope you can forgive him.”

“Not a problem,” Jeno shakes his head. He takes a glimpse over Prince Renjun’s shoulder and asks, “Prince Mark and Chenle, where are they? I haven’t seen them.”

“I saw Chenle when we walked in,” Prince Renjun says. He goes as far as to stand on his tiptoes to glance around the room. “But I haven’t seen his Highness.”

“They must be here somewhere,” Donghyuck pipes in gently. “I’m sure we will see them eventually.”

Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jaemin stares at Donghyuck while he speaks, and even after he falls silent. He’s had years of practice, hyper aware of everything that revolves around Donghyuck, and he wouldn’t miss someone else looking at him. Much less Jaemin.

However, he has other things to tend to during this party. 

“Your Highness,” Jeno says, capturing Prince Renjun’s attention once more. “Care to dance?”

Prince Renjun takes his arm with an easy smile, though he’s the one that leads Jeno to the dance floor. A violin rises above the other instruments, a jolly tune that has everyone dancing faster and faster, and Prince Renjun fits right in. 

Jeno doesn’t notice time pass while they dance. The Prince is completely elated, as if he were glowing, and Jeno forgets he’s doing this as an obligation. His father’s last letter to him flies out of his mind in the face of Prince Renjun’s excitement and glee. Jeno’s mask almost slips off multiple times, but he doesn’t mind. 

The band goes through tempos and songs faster than Jeno can keep up, though it’s always something that keeps people on their feet. Even the waltz has Jeno moving fast, narrowly avoiding a collision with other dancers from how packed the room is. Prince Renjun always laughs, calling out apologies to the guests and greeting those he recognises. 

Jeno is fascinated. 

They pull apart when a young maiden approaches them. Though her face is obscured, the few features on display are starkly similar to the Prince, and Jeno assumes they must be related. Jeno grants her the Prince’s arm, bowing to them one last time before leaving the dance floor. 

Donghyuck and Jaemin are right where they left them, standing close to the tables. Donghyuck’s golden mask does nothing to hide his expression and Jeno worries Jaemin said something to him, no matter how ridiculous he knows that is. Jaemin wouldn’t dare to disrespect him or anything of the sorts. 

“Where is the Prince?” Jaemin asks upon seeing him, craning his neck to look over the crowd. 

“A lady asked him to dance,” Jeno tells him. “I think they’re cousins, they look very much alike.”

Jaemin relaxes at that, nodding. “Must be Lady Kahei, then.”

“Prince Mark is over there,” Donghyuck says to Jeno, nodding toward another side of the room. Jeno follows his gaze, glimpsing the crown before it disappears again. 

“I will make sure to say hello,” Jeno lies through his teeth. 

He expected Donghyuck’s knowing look, but not Jaemin’s. He doesn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because another young lady walks up to their group. 

“Lady Heejin, your Highness,” Jaemin introduces. Jeno bows to her, as she does in response. “My Lady, Prince Jeno.”

“My pleasure,” Jeno says, making sure to offer his most charming smile. 

It doesn’t seem to sway her, but she grins back, demure if it weren’t because of the glint in her eyes. “Your Highness, I have been looking forward to meeting you. A dance?”

Jeno doesn’t have time to feel surprised at her boldness. He links their arms together and leads her toward the dance floor. 

Dancing with Lady Heejin is a tad easier than it was to dance with Prince Renjun, if only because her tiara is woven into her hair and there is no risk of it flying away if Jeno spins her too fast. At first, she makes light chit chat, introducing herself and asking Jeno the usual pleasantries about his stay. 

As the music turns mellower, the rush of their dance giving way to something calmer, the conversation steers away from such things. 

“I hear you’re here to marry my cousin,” she says conversationally. 

“That is my intention,” Jeno confirms. The information is common knowledge, after all. He doesn’t see where she is going with this. 

Instead, Lady Heejin hums. Jeno narrows his eyes behind his mask, and she undoubtedly catches him, because she laughs. 

“Please, don’t look at me like that,” the Lady says, slapping his arm softly. They continue to twirl around the dance floor, her pink gown spanning across the tiles with every turn. “I will admit, I didn’t believe the rumours at first, but to hear it from you…”

“What rumours?”

Lady Heejin pauses. Jeno can feel her watching him, as if trying to figure out if Jeno is serious or not with his question. She must sense he truly has no clue what she means, because she pales. 

“Your Highness,” the Lady says, “The whole court is talking about how you and Prince Mark are vying for Renjun’s hand in marriage.”

“And?” Jeno doesn’t mean to snap at her, but he’s growing restless. A bad feeling brews in his stomach. 

“And, everyone knows the two of you were engaged in the past. It’s… well, it’s the kind of information gossip is made of.”

Jeno grinds his teeth together. Lady Heejin doesn’t mention if the reasons behind their separation are public, though, and he doesn’t dare ask. 

“Well,” Jeno finally says, spinning to a stop. He lets go of her, bows, and continues, “That wasn’t a secret, was it?”

“No,” Lady Heejin agrees. She hasn’t said her goodbyes yet. “But I wouldn’t want my cousin to be hurt.”

“Me neither,” Jeno says, more serious than intended. 

Lady Heejin watches him for another second, then bows and retreats. Jeno returns to Donghyuck’s side, and while Jaemin has disappeared, Chenle is by his side. They’re chatting idly, keeping an eye on their respective Princes, and Donghyuck perks up when he sees him. 

“Chenle,” Jeno greets him, a smile blooming on his face of its own accord. Chenle always puts him in a good mood. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Your Highness,” Chenle says. “The music is wonderful, don’t you think?”

“You two should dance,” Jeno suggests. He knows Donghyuck is itching to dance, and doing so with Chenle is his only option. He doesn’t think neither he nor Jaemin would agree to dancing together. “I plan on sitting down for a moment and have a drink.”

“Are you sure?” Donghyuck asks. His eyes twinkle with excitement. 

Jeno nods. Neither of them needs to hear him twice, eagerly escaping to the dance floor.

**☆☆☆**

Mark finds Renjun through sheer luck. 

Ever since he walked into the hall, Mark was assaulted with music and people from all sides. It was brighter and louder than he thought it would be, and a part of him felt entirely overwhelmed by the situation. Chenle snuck worried glances his way, hidden behind an orange mask. Mark waved away his concerns, promising he was alright, but truthfully he wanted to go back to his room. 

Except that wasn’t an option, Mark knew, and so he shouldered through it. 

The two of them made their way through the crowded room toward a more secluded corner where Mark felt like he could breathe. There, mostly seniors were sitting at their tables, grey hair and wrinkled hands. Mark didn’t mind their curious glances, simply glad to be away from everything else. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Chenle asked. Mark asked for a glass of wine, not mentioning how he would need alcohol to survive the night, and Chenle left to pursue his task. 

It was while he waited for Chenle’s return that Renjun came his way, flushed red and sweaty from dancing, a bright grin fixated on his face. 

“Your Highness,” Renjun said, loud enough for the people around them to hear. Then, as he stood closer, he visibly frowned and asked, “Mark, are you alright?”

Mark tried to say yes, but Chenle chose that moment to come back, wine glass in hand for his Prince. 

“His Highness doesn’t do well in crowds,” Chenle confided in the Prince, ignoring Mark’s furious shake of his head. 

Renjun actually gasped, apologies spilling from his lips as if it were somehow his fault. 

“It’s okay,” Mark assured him, even if it weren’t true. “I’m okay.”

Mark could feel Chenle hold back from rolling his eyes at his words, muttering an apology as he disappeared. Mark knew he was doing it to give them some semblance of privacy, so he didn’t mind. 

“I was coming here to ask you to dance,” Renjun confessed, biting his lip in consideration. “But if you’re uncomfortable…”

The Prince trailed off, glancing off to the side. Mark was about to insist he could dance when Renjun’s face lit up and he gasped, taking Mark’s arm and more or less dragging him toward the balcony doors. 

And that is how Mark finds himself in the palace gardens, sitting on the grass below a hedge shaped as a bunny while the Prince eats a pastry and tells him about all the people at the party. 

“Some of my cousins couldn’t make it,” Renjun says, licking off stray sugar from his fingers. “Like Dejun and Yangyang, but I received a letter from my other cousin Kun saying they will all come visit next month.”

“Are you close to your cousins?” Mark asks, genuinely curious. 

“I have a lot of cousins,” Renjun laughs. “I’m afraid you will have to be more specific.”

“Why not tell me about all of them?”

Renjun shoots him an incredulous look, but Mark is serious. Squaring his shoulders, Renjun clears his throat and starts, “I believe you met Kahei, right? She is my second cousin from my mother’s side, and she is one of two that lives in the palace with us. She’s older than me, and she even used to babysit me when I was little.

“Then there is Heejin. She isn’t related by blood to Minghao, but he adopted her when we were… five?”

“I didn’t know Minghao was your uncle,” Mark comments.

“He isn’t by blood,” Renjun laughs. “But he grew up with my dad and he’s always been around, even before he took it upon himself to make me look good. Yangyang is my age, and Dejun is a year older. I never get to see them but I love it when they come visit or when I can go see them.”

Mark nods, listening. Renjun goes off in a spiel about the dumb things him and his cousin would do as kids, laughing about terrorising Chef Moon in the kitchen, and Mark laughs along. Renjun’s laughter is contagious.

“There is also Kun,” Renjun finishes. “He’s also older than me and he’s the voice of reason among us. Now, don’t get me wrong, he would also get in trouble, but it was often our fault and not his.”

“It sounds like you’re very close to your family,” Mark says.

Renjun hums. “I am, I suppose. My parents value family above anything else.”

Mark nods, thinking of his own family. His parents have been gone for years, and his brother and sister in law are the only family he has left. Well, them and Chenle, though he feels odd thinking of Chenle as mere family. Somehow, the term brother doesn’t fit him. 

“I don’t have a big family,” Mark says. “Now, it’s just me, my brother and his wife.”

“No cousins?” Renjun asks. 

“No. Or nephews or nieces,” Mark adds, sulking. He really wants a little kid running around the Castle, especially since coming here. He can’t imagine going back to the silent, cold halls of his childhood home. 

“Well, you’re welcome to take any of my cousins with you,” Renjun jokes. “They’re too rowdy.”

A loud cheer from the crowd inside draws their attention back to the party. It’s then that Mark notices they’ve been sitting outside for a long time, and that Renjun has other duties to attend tonight. 

“I’m sorry I kept you from your party,” Mark apologises, cheeks pink. “We should go back inside.”

“You weren’t keeping me from anything, I like being with you.” Renjun then tilts his head, listening to the loud violin and the laughter. “Besides, it sounds like the drinks are flowing easily in there.”

Mark snickers at his words. “Still, let’s go back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Certain. I can sit with Chenle where you found us,” Mark insists. “Come on.”

Before he loses Renjun in the crowd, however, he says, “Thank you for keeping me company.”

Renjun’s smile in response has Mark holding his breath for a second too long. 

**☆☆☆**

Jaemin has seen Jisung dance with Chenle and Donghyuck for close to an hour. They asked him to join them, the two younger boys nearly pouting at him as they pleaded with him, but Jaemin wouldn’t budge. For starters, he was on duty (even though he lost sight of Prince Renjun a while back), and it wouldn’t be right for him to dance when he had to look after his charge. 

And, Jaemin will admit, he didn’t think Donghyuck would appreciate his presence. While the young man didn’t protest when they invited him to dance, he wouldn’t meet his eyes, and Jaemin knows he must still be upset about their last conversation. 

Still, Jaemin’s eyes trail the trio for longer than he would like, thankful for the mask that hides his face. 

Prince Renjun chooses that moment to return to the party, entering through the balcony doors with Prince Mark. They’re talking, postures relaxed, and Jaemin sighs. He was starting to consider calling for a search party. 

As the Prince approaches him, Jaemin debates whether or not he should scold him for disappearing without saying anything. Except Jaemin can’t possibly do anything to wipe that smile off his face. 

“You were gone for a while,” Jaemin says instead. “Did you have fun with his Highness?”

“I did,” Prince Renjun nods, voice light. “He doesn’t like crowds, apparently.”

Jaemin frowns, searching for Prince Mark. He spots him sitting toward the back, where not many people remain, and he does seem tense. Chenle sees him then, as well, and he obviously excuses himself from his dance partners before rushing to his Prince’s side. 

“He should have said something,” Jaemin says. 

Prince Renjun makes a sound of agreement. On the dance floor, Donghyuck and Jisung continue to dance together, even though the music has dwindled down. 

“You owe me a dance,” the Prince mentions light-heartedly. “Now is a great time to fulfill that promise.”

“I made no such promise,” Jaemin protests, but he can feel his resolve die. 

It doesn’t register in his head that he has offered his arm for the Prince to take until they’re halfway to the dance floor. The crowd parts for them — undoubtedly for Prince Renjun — but they don’t go for the middle. No, instead, they dance where people still surround them.

They have danced together before. Jaemin is a noble, after all, and it wouldn’t be wrong of them to dance during royal parties. Prince Renjun’s hand fits in his as it always has, just a tad smaller, skin much softer and unfamiliar with manual work. If he were shorter, he would be at the perfect height to rest his head on Jaemin’s chest, and Jaemin is thankful for their current size difference. 

As it is, the image of Prince Renjun laying his head on his shoulder makes him burn from the inside. 

They dance, a slow waltz that Jaemin has heard countless times and knows is the song the King and Queen danced on their wedding. Donghyuck and Jisung are dancing still, Jisung snickering at whatever Donghyuck says as they pass by them, Prince Renjun calling out a soft greeting. To Jaemin’s surprise, he sees Prince Jeno dancing with Queen Chengxiao, and she appears ready to marry  _ him _ . 

Prince Mark doesn’t move from the corner of the hall, but he’s swaying side to side to the music, Chenle as well, and they seem content like that. 

Jaemin notices all these things in a span of seconds. The only seconds that he tears his eyes away from Prince Renjun. For the rest of the waltz, he focuses on the boy in front of him, their eyes locked on each other. 

The crowd disappears for them. There is a ringing in Jaemin’s ears, barely audible over the hammering in his chest and the crescendo of the violins. More than once, Prince Renjun leans forward, catching himself at the last second each time. 

Jaemin wonders what he wants to do. 

When that song ends, another one starts, another waltz. They take the excuse to keep dancing, song after song, gowns and suits and masks a blur around Jaemin. His hand on Prince Renjun’s waist feels numb and he flexes his fingers out of reflex, and it earns him a quiet gasp from the Prince. 

He does it again, just to hear it again. Prince Renjun takes the tiniest step closer, still at a respectable distance. Jaemin’s throat goes dry. 

Who knows how long they dance? They stop when the Queen approaches them, asking for her son to dance with her, and Jaemin returns to their table. His eyes continue to trail after the Prince for the night, under the pretense of protecting him. 

Sometimes, he finds himself watching the others, particularly Donghyuck and the flush on his cheeks that is visible from their short distance, but he ignores that. 

**☆☆☆**

The harsh sunlight is a pain to Jeno’s eyes. His head hurts from lack of sleep and he could barely keep his breakfast down. Donghyuck isn’t faring much better, though he hides it easily. 

Duke Kim tuts at them while Jungwoo and Lucy load their carriages. “No one told you to drink so much last night.”

Jeno grumbles at him to shut it. The Duke snorts and walks away, shaking his head, headed for their servants to help. Jeno, in a childish fit, sticks his tongue out at his retreating back. Donghyuck laughs quietly. 

Prince Renjun stands with his parents on the stairs leading to the Castle while they say goodbye to Prince Mark and his entourage. Something itches in the back of Jeno’s head, words on the tip of his tongue, but he tamps them down. 

“Jisung!” Donghyuck exclaims. Jeno turns to find the young boy approaching them, a wrapped parcel in his hands. “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I had to say goodbye,” Jisung shrugs, turning pink. “Here, I made these for you. I know you have a long trip ahead of you.”

Donghyuck takes the offered parcel with a grin, bowing lightly to him. “Thank you, Jisung.”

“Thank you,” Jeno says as well. Jisung’s blush worsens at his words and Jeno… Jeno feels too much pride at that. “We’ll miss you.”

It’s true. Donghyuck moped the entire morning, whining he didn’t want to leave, talking about all the things Jisung was yet to teach him and how he couldn’t beat him at chess yet. Chenle’s name was sneaked in there, too, as well as Mark’s, though that one was said tentatively. 

“I will miss you two as well,” Jisung mumbles, not meeting their eyes. “I hope we can meet again.”

So does Jeno. 

The rest approach them. Chenle looks almost weepy, latching onto Jisung’s arm, and Donghyuck huddles closer to them. Jaemin stays behind Prince Renjun, right where he always is, but Jeno doesn’t miss how he watches them with something akin to longing. 

Really, does Jaemin think he has any semblance of a poker face?

“Are you ready to go?” Prince Renjun asks Jeno, hands clasped in front of him. His shoulders are droopy. 

“I think so,” Jeno replies, and he sounds as enthusiastic as the rest of them. In fact, Jungwoo and Lucy are done loading their carriages, and Duke Kim is waiting for them to wrap up their pleasantries. He doesn’t seem impatient, though. “Thank you for having us, your Highness.”

Prince Renjun waves him off, blabbering about formalities and whatnot. His ears turn pink and his face shows how mortified he is that he can’t stop talking. Jeno smiles in spite of himself. 

Suddenly, Prince Mark clears his throat, capturing their attention. “I was wondering if you would all like to come visit us this spring. My parents had a spring home on the outskirts of our kingdom, and I always go there in the last days of February and stay until early May.”

The mention doesn’t surprise Jeno. Prince Mark loves that palace, and Jeno knows he spends as much time there as possible. What surprises him is that the invitation includes him when he could have easily invited Prince Renjun alone. 

Prince Renjun jumps to the opportunity, thanking him with a grin, and the next thing Jeno knows, he’s accepting as well. Prince Mark seems relieved, and he promises to send them the details as soon as he’s home. 

Their little group continues to prolong their departure. Jisung talks about how he snuck in the recipe for the desserts he made for them in the parcels, reminding Chenle to follow his instructions as he wrote them and not to experiment, to which Chenle nearly cackles. Donghyuck shakes his head at the exchange. 

Jaemin, surprisingly, approaches Jeno, who doesn’t know how to react. 

“Your Highness,” he says, almost softly. “I know it’s late, but I would like to apologise for my behaviour.”

Jeno blinks at him for a second before his mind catches up. “You were looking out for Prince Renjun,” he shakes his head. “I understand why you were so wary.”

“Still,” Jaemin insists, glancing at Donghyuck with regret. “I fear I might have hurt your feelings, and Donghyuck’s. That was never my intention.”

Jeno looks at Donghyuck, too. He’s watching them with interest, still deep in conversation with his friends. Jeno does what he can to communicate to him that it’s alright before turning back to Jaemin. 

“There are no hard feelings,” Jeno assures him. “Don’t worry.”

While Jaemin doesn’t seem entirely pleased by Jeno’s quick dismissal of his attitude, he nods in acceptance. Jeno offers him a smile, breath hitching as Jaemin’s eyes fall to his lips briefly before he goes back to his place. 

“Your Highness,” calls Duke Kim gently. “We should go.”

Jeno doesn’t want to go, but Doyoung is right. They should take advantage of as much daylight as they can, and hopefully find a tea house where they can rest before sundown. 

“We will see each other again soon,” Prince Renjun says, sounding as if he0s reassuring himself as much as he is them. “Go on, I don’t want you wandering the roads at night, none of you.”

Jeno already said goodbye to the King and Queen, and he has nothing else to do. His feet are heavy as he walks toward his carriage, climbing in and settling on the cushion. Donghyuck closes the door behind himself, and soon they start moving. 

After a few minutes of riding in silence, Donghyuck clears his throat. They’re alone, since Lord Kim rides with Jungwoo and Lucy, and Jeno glances at him. Donghyuck’s mouth opens and closes, but no sounds come out. 

Jeno already knows what he wants to say, however. He nods, taking Donghyuck’s hand in his and squeezing his fingers. 

“I know,” Jeno says, heart heavy with emotions he can’t name and doesn’t dare to acknowledge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so. i planned on keeping this a surprise for the end, but noticing the comments and questions i have received, i think i need to say it now: this fic will be 7dream endgame, as in, poly 7dream. if that isn't your thing.... gestures at back button 
> 
> IF IT IS then oh boy strap yourselves in bc we still have such a long way to go lol
> 
> the relationship tags will be updated as the story goes, and at the end i will add the ot7 tag. i will use the tags as a sort of sneak peek as to what couple will be presented in each update, so, that's fun :)
> 
> lemme know if you saw that coming, if there is a ship you like in particular so far, your favourite moments of this chapter, etc <333


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the letters he has received from the Princes are stacked neatly. He’s been thinking of moving them to a jewelry box, someplace safe, but he hasn’t done it yet. He likes to read them before bed, leafing through them under the candlelight. 
> 
> Unconsciously, he reaches out for them. He takes a few, not many, and lays them on his lap. A few tears land on the envelopes, but they’re unharmed. His fingers graze the seals, tracing the loops and bumps on the wax, and he thinks. 
> 
> He thinks of the butterflies in his stomach whenever he receives a new letter. How he adores the small endearments they use, how Mark calls him my dearest Renjun and how Jeno ends each and every one of his letters with Your Prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LISTEN i know the formatting is kinda off starting around the middle but it's almost 2am and i'm too sleepy to fix it so it will have to wait until morning......

A maid knocks on the door to Renjun’s private study room after tea time. Renjun looks up, expecting her to have a message from his mother or perhaps his father asking for his whereabouts on this day, but instead he sees her holding a tray in her hands, an envelope sitting in the middle

Excitement crawls up his spine as he beckons her inside. His fingers clench around the quill in his hand, though he tells himself time and time again to relax, it’s just a letter. The maid sets the letter on his desk and quickly leaves after bowing, closing the door gently behind her. 

“Is it another letter from the Princes?” Jaemin asks without looking up. His voice is rough around the edges, though it might just be from disuse. They have been sitting here for hours, after all, not speaking.

Renjun nods, picking up the envelope. It’s cream colored, a bit thick from its contents, and it’s sealed with Prince Mark’s family’s emblem. Renjun bites back a smile, thinking about how long it has been since the last time Mark wrote to him: two weeks. 

He knows he should read it later. He’s currently working through a pile of correspondence from nobles, since his father thought it would be good for him to take on more responsibilities as king (“See it as practice for when you rule,” he said) and he still has to reply to his cousin’s latest letter if he wants him to receive it before he sets out for his trip. 

“Put it away,” Jaemin sighs. They meet eyes across the room and Jaemin, though exasperated, seems fond. “We still have a lot of work to do.”

“You’re right,” Renjun nods. He’s disappointed, but he slides the envelope into his jacket pocket. “How is the itinerary going?”

“I did as you asked,” Jaemin says, going back to his own work. “I included some time for you and your cousins to get away from the court, and I added a date for His Highness Prince Kun and his fiancé.”

“Good,” Renjun smiles. “I’m sure Ten will like that.”

Their desks stand on opposite ends of the room. It serves a purpose to keep them occupied and concentrated on their duties, even if Renjun didn’t use to be a fan of it. He understands that it was necessary, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. 

Nowadays, however, Renjun is grateful for their space. It is becoming increasingly more difficult to keep his composure, and the extra room between them is welcomed. Jisung has been looking at them funny, too, as if he knows something. More than once, Renjun has snapped out of a reverie to realise he’s staring at Jaemin, and has looked away only to find Jisung’s eyes on him. 

There is something else there, too, something beyond Jisung’s ability to read his best friends like a book. Something beyond the curiosity he can see on his face, as if Jisung wonders if there is something between them.

Renjun doesn’t dare ask.

“I ran into the Earl this morning,” Jaemin says, hoping to start an easy conversation while they work. “He said that just because you are taking on more responsibilities, it doesn’t mean you are free from his classes.”

Renjun sighs. “I know. I won’t be free of him until I am crowned, I know,” he waves him off. “It isn’t my fault if my father wants me to work, though.”

“I told him that,” Jaemin says. “He then asked what my excuse was.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I said, my Lord, I can’t leave His Highness alone! If he’s working, then so am I.”

Renjun laughs at Jaemin’s faux remorse and the exaggerated pinch of his brows. Jaemin drops the act at the sound, settling back on his chair with a smile playing at his lips, and Renjun's giggles soon taper out to something quieter.

"Jisung's lucky he doesn't have to study anymore," Renjun comments. "He can do what he loves without having to worry about Lord Nakamoto's senseless examinations and quizzes."

"I suppose," Jaemin tilts his head. "Although I also think he would love to go to a cooking school."

Renjun hums. He knows of Jisung’s hopeful wish to move to the city one day and study more culinary styles, most likely to open a restaurant of his own. They've talked about it before, though not in a while, during early morning chats that only them and a cup of tea have been privy to.

"We should finish these now," Renjun says. "I want to have time before dinner to reply to..."

Jaemin nods, understanding. From there, they work in silence, only the sounds of their quills scratching paper and a bird singing outside the window interrupting the peace. Most of the letters King Junhui wanted him to write are sealed and ready to go, save for one to the banker in town about taxes.

The afternoon glow helps Renjun read better even in the late hours of the afternoon, soon to give way to the evening. Queen Chengxiao wanted Renjun to have dinner with her tonight, though Renjun knows that is only a tactic to figure out if he has made any decisions yet regarding his engagement.

He hasn't.

It isn't as if he hasn't given it any thought, because he has. Almost every waking second of his of the past month and a half has been plagued with thoughts about the Princes and what he will decide.

Renjun's _dreams_ have been plaguing him as well, incessant and worrying and beautiful, but not regarding Prince Mark or Prince Jeno. While his waking hours are spent thinking of them, often spacing out in the middle of his duties because the sight of a flower or a sword remind him of them, his dreams are full of Jaemin.

Without his permission, Renjun's eyes flicker to the knight across the room. Jaemin is as focused as he was before on his work, eyebrows set in concentration as he works around everyone's schedules to ensure Renjun's cousins enjoy their time with them, and Renjun is quick to snatch the opportunity to watch him.

Does this make him a creep? Surely there is nothing wrong with eyeing his best friend.

There is a scar on the side of Jaemin's face, starting beneath his earlobe and trailing to his jaw. It has faded over time, the wound years old, and Jaemin often covers it with make-up to avoid stares from strangers, but Renjun can spot it within seconds.

He can remember with startling clarity the way it happened. It's surprising how Renjun can recall so much of it when the actual day, as well as the events leading up to that moment, are much of a blur.

Renjun remembers being in the village for official Crown Prince duties. His mother and father weren't with him at the time, and Renjun had been ecstatic to hear he would be alone, thinking it was the best opportunity to prove himself as a ruler.

Everything was alright for the most part. Renjun walked with his guards around him, sometimes taking off on his own to greet those who couldn't approach him on the road. There was one lady who couldn't get up at all, so Renjun took it upon himself to sit with her for a few minutes.

However, as he returned to the caravan, one of the older guards scolding him for never telling them before running off, he heard the commotion. Somewhere behind them, hidden by the crowd eager to see their Prince, there was a fight.

Now, Renjun didn't know the specifics of the fight. To this day, he doesn't know, partly because he never bothered to ask, but also because he doesn't actually wish to know. He's mature enough to admit that it is a childish notion, but his resentment toward the men involved doesn't care.

The crowd parted as the men became physical in their altercation, fists flying and spit landing everywhere. Renjun stumbled back in shock, running into a guard, but by then things weren't dire. Other guards rushed forward to break up the fight, with Jaemin lingering around Renjun because, well, Jaemin doesn't ever leave his side.

The guard behind Renjun moved away to reassure the crowd that everything would be alright, and Renjun tried to do the same, patting a little kid on the head because she looked ready to burst into tears at any second. Some of the adults were grumbling to each other about the situation, while teenagers giggled awkwardly.

Just as Renjun thought things were back to normal, the guards escorting most of the men away from the scene, one man shook them off and began to walk away on his own, headed for Renjun's direction.

Their shoulders bumped painfully as the man walked past him. He reeked of alcohol, dirt, and sweat, as if he had been sleeping on his own vomit for days behind a bar. Renjun gasped in surprise rather than hurt at the collision, and the man sent him a dirty look before continuing his way.

In a flash, Jaemin was there, blocking Renjun from the man's sight as he calmly demanded an apology on behalf of the Prince. The drunk man eyed Jaemin up and down, so much disdain in his eyes that Renjun felt insulted, and then had the audacity to scoff.

Jaemin, who never drew his sword on civilians, reached for its hilt by his waist as he said, "Sir, you have three seconds to apologise to the Prince for your actions, or—"

"Or what?" the man spat, beady little angry eyes glaring at Jaemin.

Jaemin's hand clenched. Renjun stepped up, ready to diffuse the tension before either party said or did something they would regret, but the man murmured something else. It was too low for Renjun to catch, but Jaemin certainly heard every syllable perfectly.

Soon, the tip of his sword was below the man's chin. The crowd gasped and the guards returned running to them. The highest ranking officer among them, a lieutenant with a grey mustache and a receding hairline, barked at Jaemin to stand down.

Renjun nervously tugged on Jaemin's blue jacket, asking him to step back, but to no avail. Jaemin didn't flinch nor did he back down, holding the man at sword point with a steely gaze.

"Soldier!" the lieutenant barked, red in the face. "I gave you an order."

Jaemin almost did. Renjun could tell he was about to stand down, his hand shaking just so, and Renjun was about to sigh in relief when the man lunged forward, barely dodging the sword. Jaemin cursed in surprise, throwing his free arm back to protect Renjun as they both stumbled back to avoid the man, and then they were going down.

It was a blur from there. Renjun vaguely recalls three or so guards pulling him up from the ground and creating a protective barrier around him, the crown lost in the scuffle, and the sound of Jaemin's grunts as they fended off a highly intoxicated and violent man.

Then it was silent. Renjun broke through the barrier of guards around him and found the man being arrested (and a part of him wondered why no one had bothered to do so before) while Jaemin picked up the crown from the muddy ground.

"You're bleeding." That was all Renjun could bring himself to say, staring at the gash on the side of Jaemin's face.

Jaemin didn't appear bothered by the fact. He cleaned the crown as best as he could with the sleeve of his jacket, making sure the jewels glinted under the weak sunlight, and then placed it on its rightful place on Renjun's head.

Of course, the situation didn't end there. The man demanded for Jaemin to be thrown into jail for harassing him, even after his lawyer advised him to shut up, and even King Junhui was tempted to kick him out of the guard and the Castle walls.

"Attacking a civilian! Disobeying your superior's direct orders!" Renjun's father raged in the empty throne room, pacing back and forth. The Queen sat on her throne with a disappointed frown on her face, while Renjun sat next to her and worried this would all go to hell. "What in the world were you thinking, boy?"

"I was protecting the Prince," Jaemin said. It was all he said in his defense.

Renjun was able to convince his father and the head of the Royal Guard not to fire Jaemin. He would rather lose his crown than lose Jaemin, though he didn't say it in so many words, and thankfully he could dissuade them.

"You're staring," Jaemin says, breaking him out of his reverie.

Renjun snaps to attention, blinking his eyes back into focus. The room is significantly darker than it was before, and Renjun blushes at the idea of having lost himself in his memories while looking directly at Jaemin.

Jaemin smiles at his expression, stretching his arms above his head and groaning before settling down. "You spaced out for quite a bit there, where did you go?"

"Nowhere in particular," Renjun denies easily, shaking his head. "I started thinking about the last time we went to the village and... I guess my mind ran away from me, that's all."

"Well, it's almost time for dinner," Jaemin says. "How about we call it a day?"

Renjun thinks that's an excellent idea. He's quick to stand from his chair, locking away some of the most sensitive letters, and then scampers around the desk to reach Jaemin. His knight smiles in amusement at his eagerness and holds the door open for him.

**☆☆☆**

  
  


_My dearest Renjun,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. My apologies for failing to respond quicker, but I promise it was all due to good reasons: my sister in law, Queen Irene, is with child. I am sure the news will travel fast before I even have the chance to send this, so worry not, and feel free to share the news with your family._

_The doctors believe she is nine weeks ahead, too soon too tell the sex, but my sister is far too excited to care. You should see how she has turned the Castle upside down with baby toys and clothes, and her sisters have sent three different cribs each. It reminded me of your own mother, Queen Chengxiao, and it brought a smile to my face._

_If I am to be honest, I am surprised to see her so enthusiastic. While her and my brother were excellent caretakers after my parents passed away, and my sister in law in particular cared for me and held me together, I never thought I would see her so in love with the idea of having a baby._

_Regardless of the reason, I am thrilled to see her so happy. While unplanned, they seem very excited about having a child, and I am happy for them._

_Aside from that, nothing much of interest has happened here, and I fear I will bore you with the details of the last trip we took to the—_

“Your Highness?”

Renjun looks up and finds Jisung peeking over the crack on the door. He sits up properly in bed, aware of the robe slipping off his shoulders but unable to care at this point, and beckons Jisung to come inside. 

“You don’t have to call me that,” Renjun says to Jisung as the boy scampers to sit beside him, but it’s mostly a reflex. A well rehearsed song. “Is something the matter?”

“I wanted to check on you,” Jisung shrugs. The bed dips gently under his weight as Jisung sits cross-legged, hands on his knees. “I know you had dinner with your mom tonight.”

“Did you miss me at dinner?” Renjun coos. 

“Yes. The King asked for my dad and I to have dinner with him. It was _weird_.”

Renjun laughs at Jisung’s distressed expression. It wouldn’t be the first time his father requested for the Head Cook and Jisung to join them, but it would be the first time Renjun wasn’t there to keep Jisung from worrying himself into an early grave. 

“Jaemin didn’t join you?” he asks.

Jisung shakes his head, pouting. “No, he had dinner in the kitchen with some of the staff. How was dinner with the Queen?”

“As usual. She wants to know if I have made a decision, if I have stayed in touch with the Princes, what colour I want my suit to be and whether I prefer a spring or a winter wedding.”

Renjun sighs and flops back onto his mattress. After a second of hesitation, Jisung follows, pressing their shoulders together as they stare at the ceiling above them. Blinking back tears, Renjun does what he can to focus on the patterned tiles and counts the light blue strokes until he can breathe normally again.

“Well, it can’t be a spring wedding,” Jisung comments. “Because of my allergies.”

Renjun laughs wetly. “No. It wouldn’t do for my best man to be sneezing up a storm.”

Blindly, Renjun reaches for Jisung’s hand. He feels the boy stiffen for a millisecond before he relaxes, and their fingers tangle together comfortably. It helps, Renjun notes with relief, and he feels his body lose some of the tension it has gathered in the past, well, weeks. 

“Thank you,” Renjun whispers. “For listening. It isn’t that I don’t trust Jaemin with this, I just don’t want to—”

He doesn’t want to hurt him. He knows what this whole engagement deal has done to Jaemin, has seen the way he has distanced himself from him in order to protect his heart, and Renjun can’t say he blames him. If their roles were reversed… Renjun doesn’t think he would have lasted this long. 

If Renjun were the knight, and he had to watch Jaemin marry someone else, he would have quit his job a long time ago. He would have faced charges of treason if that was what it would take. Anything not to see Jaemin slip away from him before he could have him at all. 

It goes to prove what Renjun has known for a long time, though, and that is that Jaemin is an infinitely better person than he is. Where Renjun would have run away to keep his heart from shattering every day, Jaemin stays. Jaemin hasn’t given a hint of wanting to leave his side, or even of thinking about it.

No, Jaemin is still here. He fulfills his duty to the Crown and to the Prince and he keeps Renjun company through the most dire or boring of situations, protects him from harm and keeps his best interests at heart. 

They have had their hiccups, namely the whole three months during the Princes’ stay, but Renjun can’t blame him much. 

“How are the Princes?” Jisung asks. Thankfully, he ignores Renjun’s minor hiccup from earlier. 

“I received a letter from Prince Jeno yesterday. He told me that the spring estate is ready for our arrival soon, and that he cannot wait to see us. He also said his father took him on a fishing trip as soon as it became warm enough for the lakes to defrost and went on to complain about the smell of fish for an entire page.”

Jisung giggles at the information and Renjun can’t help but join him. It certainly paints a picture: Prince Jeno, for a man who is so brave and smart and kind, does as well in nature as Renjun does in a battlefield. Renjun has heard plenty of stories (from the Prince and Donghyuck alike) about Prince Jeno sliding on mud and tripping on tree roots. 

“He is rather clumsy,” Jisung hums. “Remember when we were walking in the gardens and a tree branch hit him on the face?"

Renjun’s laughter had begun to subside and it now starts again at the reminder. They were all together that day, enjoying a sunny afternoon in the midst of winter, and even Jaemin had seemed to be enjoying their walk, laughing at Prince Jeno’s quiet grumbling about the outdoors being mean to him. 

“Did he say anything about Donghyuck?” Jisung asks. 

Renjun nods. “Donghyuck has been practicing his French, as it appears. Jeno said it was because we used to speak in French so much during their stay so now Donghyuck is determined to learn. He also said Donghyuck has been practicing those recipes you gave him and has shown some real improvement.”

They aren’t facing each other, still looking up, but Renjun knows Jisung is blushing. He smiles, thinking about how earnest Jisung was about teaching Donghyuck some of his favourite recipes. Jisung even went as far as to compile them neatly into notes that the man could follow in his absence, which is so unapologetically _him…_ it’s so endearing it hurts. 

“What about Prince Mark?” 

“Queen Irene is pregnant,” Renjun blurts out. Jisung’s head snaps to the side to stare at his side profile in shock. “Nine weeks. She appears to be very excited and has bought baby clothes.”

“But,” Jisung frowns, and Renjun knows where he’s going with his train of thought, “if the Queen is with child, that means he—”

“He isn’t the Crown Prince anymore,” Renjun confirms. “Or, at least he won’t be when the kid is born.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t think it changes anything,” Renjun continues. “Or that it doesn’t have to. _I_ am still the Crown Prince, and if i were to choose him, he would still be King.”

Renjun doesn’t know if he’s trying to reassure Jisung or himself. It’s silly, he knows. If anything. Renjun should be glad about the development; if Mark is no longer eligible, Renjun will have to marry Jeno. No need to drive himself crazy trying to choose between them. 

And Jeno is _wonderful,_ Renjun thinks. He would make an excellent husband, there is no doubt about that. 

Mark’s face flashes in his mind. Then, Jaemin’s. 

Renjun clenches his eyes shut. 

“You will make the right choice.”

Renjun’s eyes open again at Jisung’s words. He speaks quietly, as if afraid of disrupting something, perhaps he worries he might overstep, but there is conviction there, as well. 

“Whether you choose Prince Mark or Prince Jeno, or someone else entirely,” he continues, “it will be the right choice. As long as you choose for yourself, it will be the right choice."

For the second time tonight, Renjun’s eyes prickle with tears. He won’t let them fall, however, even if they burn. “I wish it were that simple,” he croaks. 

Jisung squeezes his hand in silent companionship. 

“I love you, Jisung,” Renjun murmurs, twisting so he’s on his side. Jisung turns his head as well, and they’re close. So close that Renjun can feel Jisung’s warm breath on his skin. It isn’t uncomfortable, though. “I love you.”

Jisung parts his mouth but no words come out. The action drags Renjun’s attention to his lips, thin and pink and entirely familiar even if they aren’t, and Renjun stops himself before he even starts to lean in. 

“I love you, too,” Jisung says. It sounds painful, though.

Renjun doesn’t wish to look into that, not now. He’s tired, his eyes and head hurt, and he wants to sleep. 

“Are you staying with me tonight?” Renjun asks.

It appears it takes Jisung several seconds of debating with himself before he answers, but eventually he shakes his head, not looking at Renjun at all. 

“No, I,” Jisung stammers, untangling their fingers and sitting up, “I should go. You need rest and I don’t want to— I don’t want to hinder that. I will see you in the morning.”

“Okay,” Renjun agrees quietly. There is a strange sensation in his chest, as if someone dropped an anvil on his heart, but he can’t place why. “Good night, Jisung.”

“Good night, Renjun,” Jisung says.

With that, Jisung leaves, closing the double doors gently behind himself. Renjun sighs, spreading his arms and legs across the expanse of his bed then tucking his body into an oval position, pulling the covers up to his chin. He doesn’t bother to put out the candles around him.

It takes him a long while to reconcile sleep, though. He tosses and turns in bed, feeling too warm and then too cold, huffing in annoyance at the ceiling and staring out the windows beside his bed. Tonight has been oddly cloudy and the moon is nowhere to be seen, his room dark in spite of the gentle illumination of his candles, and yet Renjun can’t seem to be able to fall asleep. 

For a moment, Renjun considers going to Jaemin’s room. They have slept together twice more since the other night, and it has been...better. Easier, as if practice truly does make perfect. They still take great care in not touching each other, as if the barest graze of skin on skin would somehow unravel everything, but they can sleep facing each other now. 

He disregards the idea, mostly because Jaemin must be fast asleep by now and he wouldn’t want to disrupt that. As a last ditch effort, Renjun grabs one of the larger pillows off the ground, one of the ones he doesn’t keep during the night because they take up too much space, and holds onto it.

This pillow is large enough he can wrap arms and legs around it, tucking it under his head. The feeling of holding something helps, and his mind finally falls silent as sleep takes over him. 

**☆☆☆**

The guards make Jisung promise to keep an eye on Jaemin and vice versa during their shopping trip before disappearing into a pub. Jaemin waves them away, saying he’ll come looking for them when they’re ready to go, and then hitches the messenger bag higher over his shoulder. 

Jisung is scanning their to-do list with a frown. He looks up at Jaemin after a second and asks, “I thought we were here to buy art supplies for Renjun? How come this list is so…?”

“Bizarre?” Jaemin completes his thought with a laugh. They begin to walk toward the art shop the Prince likes most, sticking close to the stores to avoid the glare of the sun. “Others heard we were coming to buy things in town and decided to add their own orders.”

“Ah,” Jisung nods, folding the list neatly and sliding it into his breast pocket. “Well, in that case, do you mind if I add something myself?”

“Like what?”

“A new tea set for my dad.” At Jaemin’s questioning glance, Jisung adds, “His old set is, well, old. I know it belonged to his grandmother and he doesn’t want to throw it away, but I fear something will crack if we keep using it. I thought it would be best if I bought him a set we could use regularly and we store that one someplace safe.”

“That’s very smart and thoughtful of you, Jisunggie,” Jaemin says, reaching out to pinch his cheek with a smile. Jisung swats him away before his fingers can make contact, grumbling about how his face always hurts when he does that. 

Jisung goes through the list of requested supplies quickly once they enter the store, picking things up and examining them to ensure they’re what the Prince wants before bringing them to the counter. Jaemin doesn’t offer to help because he frankly doesn’t think he could; Prince Renjun is very specific about the paints and brushes he uses, and Jisung knows those preferences like the back of his hand. 

Truly, all Jaemin really has to do here is pay for their purchase and help carry the parcels. 

The clerk manning the counter is a young girl, possibly younger than them if Jaemin were to hazard a guess. She glances at all the items Jisung brings to her, jotting them down on a little notepad to her right. 

“Good morning, Jisung,” she says, smiling kindly. “Sir Na.”

“Just Jaemin,” Jaemin grimaces. He’s always hated hearing people call him by his title. “Good morning.”

“Hello, Rina,” Jisung greets, placing another set of brushes on the counter. The Prince seems to have requested enough supplies to start his own art school. “My apologies but it seems we might wipe out your store."

“That is alright,” she laughs. Yes, she is definitely younger than them, her laughter that of a child. “My mother will be happy to hear the Prince continues to enjoy our products.”

Jisung makes small talk with her while she sums up their purchase and packages it, tying it all together with a neat green bow. The parcels are wrapped in brown paper and there is a card stuck between two small boxes, most likely that of their store. 

Jaemin doesn’t comment on how much money he has to hand over. Prince Renjun surely knows what he is doing, and the kingdom isn’t exactly in need of funds. Regardless of how his lips twitch briefly, it isn’t Jaemin’s place to say anything. 

“What is next on our list?” he asks Jisung once they have stepped outside. A lone bird chirps above their heads, perched on the windowsill of the home above the store. 

“Let’s see,” Jisung hums. “Minghao asked for new pins, says he lost half of them in a catastrophe.”

“A catastrophe."

“That’s what it says, see?”

It does. Jaemin squints at the parchment Jisung holds up to his face, trying to decipher all the different scrawls, and yes, right below Prince Renjun’s neat handwriting requesting art supplies, is Minghao’s distinctive scratches. 

“What would you say qualifies as a catastrophe in his eyes?” Jaemin asks with amusement. 

“Maybe they fell out the window while he cleaned. His work desk is right by the window and there is a small bush outside his room.”

Jaemein laughs at the mental image of Minghao accidentally knocking his things out the window and trying to retrieve them only to find they’re lost to nature. Jisung giggles, too, perhaps thinking the same thing, and Jaemin’s mood lightens up at the sound. 

“Okay, there is a place over there where we can buy them,” Jaemin nods. “I want to have everything before dark.”

Jisung makes a sound of agreement and quickens his pace. There aren’t many people on the streets, perhaps given the hour or perhaps due to how far from the centre of the village they are, and Jaemin thanks his lucky stars for it. He would rather get through the shopping trip as quickly and conspicuously as possible. 

“Good morning,” Jisung calls out as they enter the store. The owner, an old man with far too many wrinkles to be alive and breathing, waves at them from his chair but makes no move to get up. Jaemin breathes a sigh of relief for that. “We will be out of your hair in no time, sir, we’re just here to buy pins.”

The man waves again, this time more along the lines of ‘do as you please’. Jaemin follows Jisung through the store, keeping a careful grip on their parcels and on the lookout for any protruding shelf. He would loathe to bump into anything.

“Do these pins look alright to you?” Jisung asks. 

“Are those safety pins?” 

“I think these are straight pins.” A quick look at the label on the bottom of the container confirms it. “Yes, straight pins.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about sewing or knitting,” Jaemin admits. “Did Minghao not specify what he wants?”

Jisung shakes his head. “No, he just said ‘pins’.”

“Well, then that’s what he’s getting,” Jaemin shrugs. “He should have specified.”

They purchase the pins without much fuss. The old man barely moves as he counts their payment and wraps the container in brown paper, and Jaemin watches him in case he dies on the spot. 

From there, they make quick stops at different stores; they pick up a bulk of new books that Lord Nakamoto requested for their lessons, lace for Lady Kahei’s new gloves, a pair of shoes Lady Heejin ordered from the shoemaker, flowers for the Head of Staff to decorate the front entrance, among other things. 

Every store owner and clerk greets Jisung cheerfully, welcoming him into their store with open arms. Of course, they are also polite and kind to Jaemin, but there is a stark difference — not that Jaemin faults them, no. He knows Jisung is popular among those that cater to the Castle, given how he often comes to the village on behalf of others. 

And Jisung is wonderful, Jaemin thinks. He’s sweet, soft spoken as not to upset or startle anyone, and terribly earnest in his kindness. It’s no wonder the villagers adore him as much as they do. 

Jaemin isn’t quite as beloved, and he’s sure it has something to do with the sword on his body and the way he carries himself. While attached to Prince Renjun and inexperienced in battle, he has the same training as other soldiers and officers of the Royal Guard, and the military. That can be hard to look past for someone who doesn’t know him. 

“Should we take a break? Your arms must hurt from carrying all of that.”

Jaemin hasn’t allowed Jisung to take on any of the parcels himself, saying Jisung will need both hands to look around the stores in order to buy the things on their list without a hitch. He declines the offer for the moment, saying he wants to be done quickly.

“This is good exercise,” he adds, flexing his arms with a laugh to prove his point. 

Jisung turns the same shade as a rose and looks away, stammering about how their next stop is the forgery. Jaemin tilts his head in consideration and follows him after a second. 

“We get this and then we rest,” Jisung says, and his tone indicates he won’t allow for an argument. “The Head of the Royal Guard requested for us to put in an order for new swords.”

“Did he give the measurements?” 

Jisung hums, pointing at the list. “Yes, right here. Frankly, I don’t understand any of this, do you think you could talk to the blacksmith?”

A surge of something rises inside Jaemin and he unconsciously puffs out his chest. He nods, walking inside the forgery with his head held high, and doesn’t let the fact that he’s carrying lace and high heels deter him from… whatever this is. 

He speaks to the blacksmith for a good while, explaining the specifications his superior gave them and providing his input whenever something isn’t clear or if the blacksmith doesn’t think it will work. He has to drop the parcels at one point, stacking them properly on the ground and returning his attention to the man, but he doesn’t mind.

In the end, they leave the forgery just in time to catch the lunch rush, and the two of them sit outside of a small restaurant, ordering something light to eat before they leave for the Castle. 

“I think that’s it,” Jisung says. He’s checking the list over and over, just to make sure they aren’t missing anything. “We could eat and reunite with the Guards.”

“Don’t you want to buy the tea set for your father?” Jaemin asks. 

Jisung’s eyes widen. “Oh, that’s right! I completely forgot… would you be alright with that? I’ll be quick, I promise!”

“It’s alright,” Jaemin chuckles. “Take your time, Jisung, there is no rush.”

The waiter returns with their meal, setting two bowls of chicken soup in front of them and a small basket of garlic bread in the middle. Since both of them are quite hungry, they don’t speak while they eat, other than to make comments on the taste of the soup and how soft the bread is. 

“I should tell my dad to make garlic bread more often,” Jisung says mid-chew. “The King likes it a lot.”

“That would be a good idea,” Jaemin hums. 

They finish eating quickly, and while Jisung goes to pay for their tab, Jaemin gathers their parcels once more. It is then that he realises that he might have overestimated his strength and capacity to carry so many packages at once, because he can’t figure out how he did it before for the life of him. 

“Jisung? Do you mind taking some of these?”

“Huh? Oh, sure,” Jisung nods, taking half of their errands. 

They begin to walk back toward the nearest tea shop, already sweating from the afternoon glare. Jaemin recalls the breezy air in the early morning while he prepared for the day and sighs wistfully. 

Jisung doesn’t take long to choose an adequate tea set for his father. He spots a set at the front of the store, white porcelain decorated with blue and pink swirls and golden accents, and his face betrays how much he loves it upon first sight. 

“Take that one,” Jaemin encourages him, smiling. “Don’t give me that look, Jisung, I know you loved it. Go on, buy it. If you’re short on cash, I can lend you some.”

Jisung isn’t one to take money from others, much less if he knows it comes from the Royal vault, but his eyes say he’s sold just from looking at the set. While Jisung stands there, debating with himself if he should take the offer or not, voicing weak protests against Jaemin, the knight crosses the room to where the store owner sits and asks for the set himself. 

“I will be paying,” he adds. “It’s a gift, so would you mind wrapping it for me? Thank you.”

“Jaemin,” Jisung whines. Jaemin is sure he would be tugging at his jacket if his hands weren’t full. “You can’t, I can’t let you pay for this.”

“I already am, so,” Jaemin shrugs, smiling. “Relax, Jisung. It’s a gift for your father, you shouldn’t worry so much.”

“But, the money–”

Jaemin cuts him off. “They won’t miss it.”

Jisung stares at him as if he has lost his mind — Jaemin can’t say he blames him for it. Regardless, Jaemin doesn’t budge, and he pays for the tea set, bowing at the man and exiting the store before Jisung can try to take it back. 

“We should head home, now,” Jaemin hums. He squints under the glare of the sun, trying to spot their way back to the carriage. “It’s getting very warm and I don’t want the poor horses to have to run under this heat.”

Jisung doesn’t reply. He’s clearly sulking, mouth set in a pout as he stares at the ground. In fact, he doesn’t speak again until they’re in the carriage, sitting side by side and surrounded by the endless parcels and bags, the precious tea set on his lap.

“Jaemin,” Jisung starts. Jaemin starts to interrupt him, thinking he’s going to say something about the tea set, but Jisung shakes his head. “It isn’t about that, I… thank you, but that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh. What is it, then?”

Silence fills the carriage. Outside, the guards chat and laugh amiably, the horses neigh, and the mud of the ground sloshes as they breeze past the scenery. Inside, Jisung bites his bottom lip raw and avoids eye contact with Jaemin. 

“Who do you think he will choose?”

The words wash over Jaemin like a bucket of frozen water and he goes ramrod straight. Jisung, of course, doesn’t ask for anything other than concern, though Jaemin can’t discern at whom it might be directed. 

“I don’t know,” he says. And it’s the truth. 

“I’m worried,” Jisung continues, softly, as if scared he will spook Jaemin. Curious, granted Jaemin has nowhere to run, lest he were to jump out of the moving carriage. “I believe… Jaemin, I swear, you can’t tell anyone I told you this.”

Interest piqued, Jaemin glances at Jisung with a raised eyebrow. 

“I believe there might have been something between Donghyuck and Prince Jeno,” Jisung whispers. The sound is drowned by the noise from outside, and Jaemin thanks the heavens for it. “Something similar to… to you.”

 _No,_ Jaemin thinks bitterly. _It is very different._

“You can’t speak a word of such to anyone,” is all Jaemin says. A warning, a plea, and something else entirely. “Jisung, so much of a rumour or a whisper passed between servants could ruin two kingdoms. Three, even, if what we heard of the Princes is true.”

Gossip about the previous engagement between Prince Mark and Prince Jeno was quick to make its rounds around the Castle walls. Surprisingly, it was only after their departure, something a servant overheard among the nobles present at the party. When Jisoo, a seamstress for the Queen, hushedly told Jaemin about it, he pretended not to know nor care.

In reality, he felt as if the ground had disappeared beneath his feet. 

He already knew, but the fact of the matter is that Prince Renjun doesn’t. And Jaemin knows Prince Renjun well enough to know that such knowledge will do more ill than well. Not to mention, he would loathe for either of the Princes or their reputations to be harmed by this. 

All in all, it isn’t an ideal situation, and Jaemin will do his damned hardest to protect everyone involved, regardless of what it costs him. 

“I won’t,” Jisung vows. “I would never, you know this.”

Jaemin sighs. “I know, Jisung. I’m sorry if I made it seem as if I don’t trust you.”

Jisung shakes his head, as if to say there is no harm done. And they don’t speak of it anymore.

**☆☆☆**

Renjun folds his napkin into a star while waiting for his cousins to settle down. Heejin, poised and elegant as ever, has her fork dangerously close to Yangyang’s nostrils as he laughs at whatever joke he made. Dejun has spent most of their lunch suppressing his laughter at their behaviour, Ten egging them on while Kun watches on in amusement.

“You are too much,” Renjun says, shaking his head. “Is this really how the royal family behaves?”

“ _You_ are the Crown Prince,” Yangyang says pointedly. “Not us.”

“So is he!” Renjun points at Kun, who laughs. 

“Not here,” Kun denies. “Here, I am a mere guest.”

Renjun sighs. Kun used to at least try to keep them in order, if only to maintain appearances around other nobles or the citizens of their kingdoms. Ever since he met Ten, however, he doesn’t mind the chaos. In fact, he seems to be encouraging it, somehow, even though he hasn’t really said anything.

“I was saddened that we couldn’t meet the Princes,” Ten says. Renjun looks at him, blushing furiously at the pointed eyebrow sent his way. “How was their stay?”

“Didn’t I tell you enough in my letters?” Renjun grumbles. 

“But we want to hear it from you,” Dejun smiles. 

Renjun sighs, picking at the fruits on his plate disinterestedly. “Prince Jeno isn’t simply a strategist. I know he has made a name for himself expanding his father’s kingdom and protecting their cities from enemies, but he really is a sweetheart, and rather clumsy, always tripping and hitting himself on door frames or tables. He’s also a bookworm like me, so we spent a lot of time together in the library.

“Prince Mark has different interests when it comes to ruling,” he continues. “He seems more focused on growing his kingdom through trades and farming, and once he spent close to an hour talking about the different types of architecture in their cities. He doesn’t particularly care for wars or military tactics like Prince Jeno, but he also always listened intently if we were all talking.”

It was endearing, Renjun adds in his head. Mark didn’t seem to know much about those things, but it never stopped him from listening to Prince Jeno when he spoke. Likewise, Prince Jeno paid attention whenever Mark talked about their cotton fields and the steadily growing market for wool. 

“You seem to have bonded with them,” Dejun remarks. 

His cousin doesn’t mean anything by it, Renjun knows, and yet the statement makes his cheeks redden. 

“I suppose,” he says. “That was their purpose of their visit, after all.”

“Renjun also made good friends with their staff,” Kahei chimes in. So far, she has remained quiet, sipping at her tea while the cousins bickered, but now she sends Renjun an all-too-knowing smile. “Particularly Donghyuck, Prince Jeno’s, ah, right hand, was it?”

“Right,” Heejin nods, and she, too, smirks. “Not to be called a servant, if I recall. At first, quite a few people made the mistake, and while Prince Jeno merely corrected them, you could tell it bothered him.”

Renjun narrows his eyes at them. He has no idea where his cousins are going with their train of thought, and he doesn’t like that their guests seem to catch on to their meaning before he does. 

“Ah,” Ten nods, smiling at the tablecloth. “Is it, perhaps, a similar situation to our Renjun and his dear knight?”

“Exactly!” Heejin exclaims, laughing quietly. “Yes, it would appear so.”

Renjun’s ears turn red. Yangyang laughs along with her, and for once they seem to forget about their bickering to join forces against him. 

“Ah, that isn’t quite what I meant,” Kahei coughs. 

“What did you mean, then?” Renjun asks through gritted teeth.

“I just think it was nice of you to bond with Donghyuck as well, that’s all.”

All eyes zero in on Renjun. Ten and Yangyang wear identical expressions of glee, and while Kun has the decency of masking it behind a kind expression, Dejun’s tongue-in-cheek grin is almost too much for Renjun to bear. Heejin smirks, eyes lit up in joy, and Renjun wishes Kahei would have kept her mouth shut. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not,” Dejun laughs. 

“I wonder how Jaemin feels about that,” Yangyang says. 

Renjun’s eye twitches, but he doesn’t let it get to him. He knows they’re just teasing him, and he says so in his head over and over, they’re just teasing, they don’t mean anything by it. It’s just harmless fun between cousins, they do it all the time, they’re always poking at each other.

 _You did it too,_ he thinks. _You would tease Kun about Ten, just like this._

It feels different, somehow. Kun can marry Ten, they’re engaged, Ten is a Prince from another land. 

Renjun can’t marry Jaemin. 

“Just… drop it, will you?” Renjun snaps. 

The table falls silent. Renjun won’t look up from his plate, no longer hungry, but he knows they’re watching him again. His stomach feels funny. 

“I,” he stammers, “I should go. I’m sorry, I will see you all at dinner.”

Uncaring if he’s being rude, Renjun stands from his chair and walks out of the room. He runs into their guards outside, almost barreling straight into Yukhei in his haste to get away, and manages to apologise before fleeing for his chambers.

There are far too many servants in the hallways this time. Renjun wonders why, of all days and hours, they would choose right now to do their jobs, as he avoids eye contact with everyone. He keeps his head low, eyes trained on his feet as he rushes through the Castle halls. 

It’s only once the double doors to his room have banged close behind him that Renjun feels tears slide down his cheeks. He chokes on a sob, covering his mouth with a hand in an attempt to smother the noise. His eyes sting as he cries, and he hates the awful sensation in his chest. 

Through blurry vision, Renjun makes his way to his bed, collapsing on the mattress. He can’t stop his tears, he might as well be comfortable while he cries, no? 

Jaemin’s face flashes in his mind and it hurts, it hurts much more than anything else he’s ever experienced. He can’t marry him, it echoes over and over in his mind. 

Someone knocks on his door, and a servant’s voice floats through the room. “Your Highness?”

“What?” 

“Um, your cousins are looking for you.”

“I’m not available,” he shouts, voice cracking. He cringes, wiping snot from his nose, but doesn’t say anything else, and the servant leaves. 

Renjun forces himself to sit up, though, and as he does so, his eyes catch sight of his bedside table. 

All the letters he has received from the Princes are stacked neatly. He’s been thinking of moving them to a jewelry box, someplace safe, but he hasn’t done it yet. He likes to read them before bed, leafing through them under the candlelight. 

Unconsciously, he reaches out for them. He takes a few, not many, and lays them on his lap. A few tears land on the envelopes, but they’re unharmed. His fingers graze the seals, tracing the loops and bumps on the wax, and he thinks. 

He thinks of the butterflies in his stomach whenever he receives a new letter. How he adores the small endearments they use, how Mark calls him _my dearest Renjun_ and how Jeno ends each and every one of his letters with _Your Prince._

He has also received some letters from Chenle and Donghyuck. Those have been far less, and always added inside the envelope their Princes used, but nonetheless sweet. It is as if finding a secret treasure, within another treasure.

Renjun scoffs at himself. He’s being silly, knowing they’re just letters, but…

Still. They’re precious to him.

He doesn’t notice he has stopped crying, holding their letters in his hands, their reminders that they think of him as much as he thinks of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> renjun's cousins are just teasing!! they obviously don't know the extent of his feelings otherwise they wouldn't say those things 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something passes between them. Prince Mark’s tongue pokes out to lick at his lips. Donghyuck’s breath is stuck in his throat. He remembers, briefly, the time they were thirteen years old and the Prince was stung by a bee. How he cried and sniffled because it was painful, and how sweetly he had asked Donghyuck to help. 
> 
> How Prince Mark’s eyes shone with fascination when Donghyuck kissed the spot on his hand and promised to find a soothing balm for him as quickly as he could. 
> 
> The same eyes are staring back at him right now. The boy from his memory is long gone, hardened by age and experience, even if they’re still impossibly young by years alone, but his eyes are the same. Wide, honest. It is impossible for Mark to hide how he feels, not with those eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! sorry for the delay, college is killing me lol this chapter is mostly unbetaed bc my beta is busy with school and i was too excited to wait... i hope you enjouy it!

Soft spring breeze ruffles Renjun’s hair as he exits the carriage. He stretches lazily, arms high above his head, and bends backwards as far as he can, groaning when something cracks. He then rests his hands on his hips and gazes out at the meadow in front of him, watching a grasshopper appear at his feet.

“We won’t be long,” Jaemin says to him as he hops off the carriage. “I will buy our lunch. Jisung, stay here with the Prince.”

Jisung makes a sound of acknowledgement, and Jaemin disappears into the little town, humming a little tune that gets carried away by the wind. Renjun throws Jisung a glance over his shoulder and asks, “Would you happen to know how far from the estate we are?”

“I don’t think it’s too far away,” Jisung replies. “And I think I overheard Jaemin telling the driver to speed up a little, so he might be eager to get there, too.”

Renjun hums. The three guards that came with them mill around the area, both to keep an eye on their surroundings as well as to stretch their legs. Jisung bends forward to touch the tips of his shoes and stands again with a grimace.

“We have been cooped up in the carriage for three days,” Renjun says softly.

“Three very long days,” Jisung adds. “I can’t feel half my body.”

Renjun laughs. “Me neither. I hope we can rest when we arrive. I could use a decent night of sleep.”

Their trip to Prince Mark’s estate has been nothing but an endless loop of waking inside the carriage and falling asleep inside the carriage. At first, the three friends distracted themselves by playing games, gazing out the small window and gorging themselves with the sweets they packed. 

The novelty wore off soon, however, leaving them to… do nothing. Renjun has been napping a lot today, and he’s woken up thrice to his head on Jaemin’s shoulder. Jisung, sitting on the bench across from them, naps with his head lolled back and mouth open just a bit. Renjun, on each occasion, has focused on the sight of Jisung’s scrunched up nose as he snored rather than on any and all point of contact between him and Jaemin. 

Jaemin returns to them not long after with numerous parcels, the smell of food wafting into Renjun’s nostrils as he comes closer. Jaemin distributes the meals carefully, giving the guards their share and handing the rest to Jisung. 

As everyone prepares to go back to the road, Renjun clears his throat and asks, “Should we have our meals here? We have some blankets we can sit on. I don’t want anyone too distracted by the road to eat properly.”

It isn’t as if the guards will say no to their Prince. Jisung lays out a green blanket on the grass and Renjun sits down gracefully, pulling his parcel of food into his lap. Jaemin and Jisung join him, while the guards decline the blankets and choose to eat while standing by the carriage. 

“How was the town?” Jisung asks. He’s trying to get a glimpse of the small village behind them, but there isn’t much to see: a few rundown houses, a tea house, and a few other buildings that have most definitely seen better days. 

“Small,” Jaemin shrugs. “Dusty. The tea house was clean, though. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have stopped here.”

Renjun doesn’t doubt it. The soup is warm, if a little salty, but it’s alright. They won’t die just because they had one lousy meal during their trip. 

“I think we can arrive tomorrow morning, at the latest,” Jaemin continues, glancing at Renjun. “Though I’m afraid it will put a strain on the guards if we make them race.”

“If not?” Renjun asks. 

Jaemin tilts his head, thinking. “Perhaps tomorrow night.”

“Then that’s when we will arrive,” Renjun nods. “I don’t want them to get hurt or sick.”

Renjun brought with them on their trip the three guards that have looked after him his whole life. While their age difference doesn’t leave room for a friendship, with the youngest of the guards well past his thirties, he trusts them the most, and he didn’t want other guards to escort them. 

“I can’t wait to sleep on a bed,” Jisung sighs. 

While Renjun could easily tuck himself into the cushioned bench inside the carriage, the same could not be said about Jisung. With his gangly limbs and towering height, it’s a miracle he’s been able to sleep at all during the trip. 

“Me neither,” Renjun agrees. “Prince Mark told me that there won’t be many staff members at his castle this time.”

The news made something giddy burst in Renjun’s chest. The idea of being relatively alone, just the seven of them… it was, somehow, exactly what Renjun didn’t know what he wanted.

“The guards won’t stay with us too long,” Jaemin adds. “I think they will stay long enough to ensure we will be alright and then they will return home.”

“Hm, good.” 

A ladybug lands on the tip of Jaemin’s nose as the knight prepares to speak again. Jaemin goes rigid, cross-eyed as he tries to look at the small insect without scaring it away, and Jisung laughs gleefully at the sight. 

“I think those are good luck in some cultures,” Renjun comments, holding back a laugh of his own. 

Jaemin frowns. He looks like he wants to speak but is afraid of startling the ladybug and having it fly away — or worse, have it fly into his mouth. That wouldn’t be the best appetizer for their meal, in Renjun’s opinion. 

“Don’t jinx it!” Jisung flaps his arms. “That’s like saying a wish out loud.”

Renjun shakes his head. He’s never been one for making wishes, finds them… unrealistic, in a way. He used to feel silly whenever someone insisted he made a wish under any circumstances, and while he plays along, he doesn’t truly think they will come true.

(Yangyang, upon hearing such for the first time, gaped at him for a full minute before blurting out, “ _ You _ , of all people, don’t believe in wishes?”)

On the other hand, Jisung loves wishes, and the idea behind them. He makes wishes upon falling stars and dandelions and eyelashes and chicken bones and just about anything else that might be linked to magic in any sort of way. 

With another glance at his knight, Renjun hums. He doesn’t know what is Jaemin’s stance on wish making. 

Jaemin continues to stare at the ladybug until it flies away, flapping its little wings as it goes with the wind. Jaemin’s shoulders fall, physically relaxing, and he offers a lopsided grin to Jisung. 

“Hopefully that ladybug will help us during this trip, no?”

**☆☆☆**

They almost don’t make it to Prince Mark’s estate. 

Hours after they continued the trek, while Jaemin dozed off and Renjun played silly games with Jisung, their carriage passed over a bump on the road. The car bumped, lurched to the side, the horses neighing in protest as the driver tried to right them, and then they were still.

Renjun sat there, heart in his throat and eyes wide, while Jaemin made sure they were both alright. Jisung, while pale, seemed untouched. Jaemin jumped out of the carriage to check the damage and talk to the guards, and Renjun willed his pulse to return to normal.

It was a large rock on the muddy ground. The guards said that it seemed it had rained earlier in the area, for the road was wet, and they all failed to spot the rock before it was too late. 

“The carriage is alright, for the most part,” Jaemin informed them, climbing back inside the car with them. Renjun and Jisung sat shoulder to shoulder on one side. “They want to stop and check the wheels, however. Just in case.”

_ Nothing to worry about.  _

Time passed slowly. One of the guards took off on his horse to the nearest town to purchase a new wheel while they waited, and Renjun feared they wouldn’t arrive at Prince Mark’s palace. 

Thankfully, though, the guard returned right after nightfall with a new wheel and a townsman that could help them repair the carriage, and they were good to go. The same guard escorted the man back to town and promised to meet them at Prince Mark’s estate as soon as he could. 

Given the set back, Renjun thought they would take even longer to finish their trip. The guards, however, shook their heads when he voiced his thoughts, insisting they could continue their way to Prince Mark’s estate right away. 

“It is a clear night, a full moon,” the eldest of them spoke, pointing at the sky. “It is enough for us to continue guiding the horses.”

“Aren’t you tired, though?” Renjun frowned. “What about the horses?”

“I think we would all like to avoid any more accidents, if possible. And the horses rested enough while we fixed the wheel. All is well, Your Highness, do not worry. We will get you boys to the palace in no time.”

And now, the next day, their party arrives at the gates of the palace as the sun peaks over the horizon. Renjun rubs the sleep away from his eyes and peeks through the curtain, a sense of awe unfurling in his chest at the sight. 

It’s a summer home. Renjun knows this isn’t nearly as grand as a Castle, and yet the estate seems to tower over everything else. Even the mountains behind them appear to cower in the face of tall, regal columns and ivy covered walls. 

Past the iron gates, the carriage trots over a cobbled path surrounded by grass, and the front garden seems to stretch on forever. Jisung makes a sound of amazement at the display. 

The mansion itself is three stories tall, with cherry red wood and porcelain steps. A handful of servants are waiting for them outside, including Chenle. As Mark said, there don’t seem to be many people on the grounds — besides Chenle, there are two maids and a man. Renjun thinks Chenle looks like he might be seconds away from squealing in excitement, shoulders tense as he holds his hands in front of him.

They have to wait until the servants have unloaded their suitcases from the back of the carriage before stepping outside. Jaemin goes first, hopping off the car to hold out his hand for Renjun, and Jisung exits last, almost hiding behind them. 

Chenle, to his credit, does not immediately jump on any of them. He steps forward, along with a man a few years older than them. He doesn’t bear a striking semblance to Mark, so Renjun knows he isn’t King Johnny, but he can tell he’s a noble. 

“Good morning,” the man bows, offering a smile as he straightens up. “My name is Lee Taeyong. I am Prince Mark’s guardian and tutor. Welcome to His Highness’s spring home, I hope you will enjoy your stay. If you need anything, do not hesitate to let me or anyone else know.”

“Thank you,” Renjun bows back. “I am Prince Renjun. This is Jaemin, my knight, and Jisung, my best friend. Thank you for having us.”

Pleasantries go quickly. As it would turn out, Sir Taeyong is a knight as well, though his duties to the Prince don’t end there, and while he takes Jaemin aside for a brief talk about security measures and whatnot, Chenle remains with them. 

Renjun’s guards follow another servant to the stables where their horses can eat and rest. The eldest of them shoots Renjun and Jisung with a look of warning, as if to remind them to behave and not get into any sort of trouble, and then he’s gone with the others. 

Chenle takes the opportunity to jump on Jisung, latching onto his arm with a vice grip and shaking him side to side. Jisung, to his credit, lets him do as he pleases. Chenle grins widely at Renjun, though he already bowed and did his formal greetings — this is his friendly greeting. 

“The Princes were starting to worry you wouldn’t make it,” Chenle says softly. 

Renjun scratches the back of his neck, huffing out a breathy laugh. “Oh, we almost did not. Our carriage suffered a bit of an accident on the road. My apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“That’s alright! The Princes and Donghyuck are in the parlour, follow me.”

Chenle leads them through the first and second floor of the home. He points out the path to the kitchen and the small library, and he makes sure to emphasize that they’re free to roam around as they please. The parlour itself is on the second floor at the far end of the hallway, behind an oak door. 

Even before entering the room, Renjun can hear them laughing. And, well, he didn’t say this to anyone, but he’s glad that Mark and Prince Jeno seem to be getting along better than they did when they first came to the Castle. He still doesn’t know what happened between them, and he will admit that the curiosity is eating him alive, but he hopes they can move forward.

Chenle holds the door open for them, ushering them inside with a flourish — a hand behind his back, the other motioning them inside, head bowed — and Renjun has the barest second to think he’s cute before he’s hit in the face with the full force of his longing. 

Donghyuck is the first one to stand up and greet them. His hair is longer now, and curlier, if that’s even possible, falling in ringlets around his forehead and over his ears. He resembles a baby bear, his eyes nearly sparkling with joy when he sees them.

The Princes stand after he does. Prince Jeno smiles, all teeth, and a balloon grows in Renjun’s chest, tight and larger than life, making it difficult to breathe. Then Mark greets him and the balloon pops, all the air rushing back to his lungs. 

Surprisingly, or not, Donghyuck’s attention goes to Jisung right away. It makes sense, seeing how they bonded much more than Renjun did with Donghyuck, and surprisingly… it doesn’t bother Renjun. He looked forward to seeing Donghyuck, the idea had him metaphorically on the edge of his seat, and yet he doesn’t mind that Donghyuck seems more interested in Jisung than he does in him. 

“Your Highnesses,” Renjun bows for the two princes. 

Pleasantries go around the room. Renjun worried that interactions would be stilted, after months of not seeing each other, but it feels as if no time has passed at all. Mark offers him a seat next to them on the table, Prince Jeno compliments his hair, and Donghyuck serves him a cup of tea with a smile. 

Renjun doesn’t wish to get ahead of himself, but it feels like coming home.

**☆☆☆**

A large expanse of grass stretches behind the estate. In the distance, Renjun can glimpse a separate shack, which he guesses must be the staff quarters, and a trail of dirt to the side leads to a small farming area. Trees tower over them by the edge of the forest, and Renjun hears a body of water gushing gently somewhere to their right — a stream, he supposes. 

It is an exceptionally pretty morning. The treetops sway with the wind and birds sing joyfully around them, though Renjun can’t see them. It’s the perfect ambience for a picnic. 

Jaemin and Donghyuck lay out the blanket on the grass, a thick pink fabric that will cushion their bottoms while they sit and enjoy their breakfast. Chenle, aided by Jisung and Prince Jeno, carries the food from the kitchen to their chosen spot in wicker baskets. 

Renjun stands with Mark further to the side while the Prince explains to him which direction to take if he were in need of help, just as a precaution. 

“To the east, there is a village with a doctor,” Mark says, pointing in the aforementioned direction. “If you head for the mountains and keep walking in a straight line, you could either find yourself at a village or at the edge of a cliff, so be careful. Of course, the fastest route would be to take a horse or a carriage.”

“Should I be concerned you’re giving me all these instructions?” Renjun asks, half serious and half playful. He appreciates the information, though he wonders why Mark would feel the need to tell him all of this. 

To his relief, Mark laughs and shakes his head. “No. I always prefer to know where I can find help, in case of an emergency or a worst case scenario. I try to offer the same courtesy to my guests, especially when we are running as short on staff as we are and considering how far we are from the nearest village.”

“Smart,” Renjun nods. “Thank you.”

Mark smiles. He looks entirely pleased with himself at the praise, and Renjun masks his fondness with a roll of his eyes. Chenle calls out to them once the picnic has been set up, baskets on a neat row along the edge of the blanket and the other boys moving to sit in a loose semi-circle.

Renjun finds himself sitting between Prince Jeno and Jaemin, directly across from Chenle. The Prince, shoulder to shoulder with Jisung, speaks quietly about an anecdote from his kingdom while spreading butter on a loaf of bread for Jisung, and Renjun doesn’t need to look to know Jisung is a complete mess about it. 

Finger sandwiches and fruit cover the blanket on small pink and white plates, with blueberry pie and grapes and strawberries taking up the majority of the space. Renjun picks up a sandwich and takes a cautious bite, raising his eyebrows in surprise at the taste of goat cheese. 

“You know what we should do after eating?” Mark asks them at large as he peels a grape. Renjun would shame him for not eating the skin if his mouth weren’t full of bread. “We should take the horses and go exploring. I think you would all like the area, especially the waterfall.”

“There is a waterfall here?” Renjun tilts his head. 

“Further north, but yes,” Chenle nods. “It’s very pretty and the water is clean.”

“That sounds fun,” Prince Jeno says. 

It does. They all agree to the idea, and Mark flushes red at their praise for his quick thinking. However, their hunger keeps them from further conversation, and their group turns to small talk in twos while they eat. 

Renjun’s eyes wander around as he chews, switching from a sandwich to a cut up mango. As he noticed before, the shack in the distance appears to be staff quarters, for he sees a maid exit the cabin, seemingly prepared to start working for the day. It’s too far to see properly, but Renjun guesses she must be a kitchen staff, since he didn’t see anyone there while they prepared their picnic. 

Jaemin plucks a cherry from the others and brings it to his mouth. Renjun glances away from him for a second, and when he looks back, he catches sight of Jaemin’s frown and how his cheek bulges, as if his tongue were poking at it. 

Then, with a minimal sound of victory, Jaemin lifts his hand and takes out the cherry stem. It’s tied neatly into a knot. Renjun’s mouth goes dry, and in that moment Jaemin chooses to look his way. 

Their eyes meet for the briefest second. Renjun makes an effort to keep his gaze on Jaemin, but he can see from his peripheral vision the way Jaemin’s lips shine with spit and cherry juice.

He’s reminded of the mango juice that stains his lips. Renjun’s tongue flickers out without thought, and Jaemin’s eyes flicker down to follow the movement. Renjun clenches his jaw to keep from gasping and turns his head away, focusing on the patch of grass visible beside Chenle.

**☆☆☆**

The stables are as any other Renjun has visited in the past: large, a bit dark, smelly and full of hay. This isn’t a problem for Renjun; the stables in his own Castle are much the same, so he doesn’t even feel the need to cover his nose. 

A few stable boys rush around the space. Two of them have large rakes in hand as they push piles of hay from one side to another, another one refills the water tanks in the empty stalls, and a last boy is shoveling horse excrement into a spade. The dirt floor is dry and the stables have large windows on the second floor, and there is enough lightning that Renjun doesn’t have to guess where to step. 

“Feel free to choose any horse you like,” Mark says to the boys as they weave through the stables. “If it helps, each stall has the horse’s name and breed!”

Renjun examines the closest stall to him. The horse’s breed is  Akhal-Teke and its name is Sugar, he reads, and then he looks up at the horse: it seems almost hairless, though Renjun knows that isn’t the case, shimmery gold hair so small it is hard to see. 

It’s a beautiful horse. It’s munching on hay while lying down on the dirt, almost uncaring of the people around him. Renjun immediately takes a liking to it and asks a stable boy to help him put on its saddle. 

Since he is the first one out of the stable, Renjun takes the chance to bond with his horse. They trot around the stable for a few minutes, slowly so they can both become accustomed to each other, while Renjun pats the horse’s mane and speaks in hushed whispers. 

When he returns to the double doors leading to the barn, he sees Jaemin and Donghyuck have chosen their horses as well; Donghyuck’s horse is black and large, while Jaemin chose a white one. They haven’t sat on the saddles yet, adjusting the straps on them and fixing their clothes. 

Jaemin is smiling at Donghyuck.

It’s a beautiful smile, Renjun thinks, toothy and bright. They’re talking, having a real conversation for what must be the first time, and Donghyuck appears as perplexed as Renjun feels. 

Renjun is fairly certain Jaemin is flirting with him, as well. 

Prince Jeno exits the stables with a Bashkir horse. Renjun recognises the breed from a trip to the northern regions with his father, and the horse sports a thick, curly coat to protect it from the cold. The mane falls in ringlets, brown and curly. Behind him follow Chenle and Mark, and then comes Jisung. 

“Are we ready?” Mark asks them. 

At their affirmative, Mark leads his horse toward the woods, and the rest follow him. Renjun falls into place beside Jisung as they move, the younger boy chatting to their horses and Renjun alike as he talks about the scenery around them. 

“I really like these trees,” Jisung says. “They’re very tall, right? That means they’re great for shade, and the roots are easy to spot on the ground.”

Renjun smiles down at the horse’s mane. Ahead of them, Mark and Donghyuck ride side to side, and though they don’t appear to be talking, they seem to be sharing a comfortable silence.

Lastly, Prince Jeno brings up the rear with Chenle and Jaemin. Chenle talks, mostly, though Renjun can’t discern what he’s saying, and both the Prince and Jaemin listen. 

Renjun watches the forest as they continue their trek. They’re going slow, be it because they don’t want to strain the horses or because they’re unfamiliar with the terrain, but Renjun doesn’t mind: he likes to take his time, fascinated at the display of trees and foliage around them. While there aren’t many flowers, it is incredibly fresh and green. 

Some animals close their path, though none is bigger than a fox. A few bunnies here and there scamper from one side of the path to the other, and birds sing from their perch on the tree branches. 

“Remember when we went on a trip to the mountains?” Renjun asks Jisung. “We were, what, twelve? And you beat father at a race?”

Jisung giggles. “I was worried the King would be upset he lost… but he just laughed.”

“He wouldn’t have dared you to go on a race with him if he would have minded losing,” Renjun points out. “And he isn’t a sore loser. Now, Jaemin, on the other hand…”

They both laugh. While Jaemin isn’t competitive per se, and he doesn’t ever seem interested in competitions or dares, he is an exceptionally sore loser when he sets his mind on something and fails. It doesn’t happen often, but it has, and it has been entirely too entertaining each and every one of them. 

“Do you think the others would be interested in a race?” Jisung asks. 

“Maybe when we’re more familiarised with the area,” Renjun shrugs. “I would be. I think it would be fun.”

Jisung grins, satisfied. Their group continues to advance through the forest, and the pairs switch up after a while — Renjun finds himself next to Donghyuck, who offers him a shy smile in greeting. 

“How have you been?” Renjun asks. “His Highness spoke of you sometimes in his letters, but I would love to hear from you.”

“I have been well, thank you,” Donghyuck inclines his head. “I have been practicing the recipes Jisung gave me, and I am pleased to say I have mastered a few! I may not be as skilled as him, but I am quite proud of them.”

“That’s swell,” Renjun laughs. “I wish I could bake. To be frank, I don’t often have the opportunity to be in the kitchen. But, between you and me, Prince duties and all aside, I don’t think I would be a very good cook. I don’t have Jisung’s patience for those recipes.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to assume so if you haven’t tried,” Donghyuck replies. 

He doesn’t say it to be mean or anything. He sounds as if he’s encouraging Renjun to try his hand in the kitchen. 

Renjun nods, humming quietly. “I suppose that’s fair. I guess I will have to give it a try, then.”

“Be sure to let me know,” Donghyuck flashes him a smile. 

Renjun thinks he smiles back, but he feels tingly and numb at the same time, and he isn't all too aware of what expression his face is doing. He hopes he doesn't look dumb.

**☆☆☆**

Renjun blinks and suddenly Mark and Jisung are racing each other through the forest, leaving the rest of them in the dust. Prince Jeno shouts in surprise, an aborted call of their names before he understands what they’re doing and he lets out a peel of laughter. 

The horses kick up dirt and dust as they run. Jisung laughs, a sound that is unmistakably full of joy, as he leaves Mark behind, his horse expertly weaving through trees and branches. Mark yells something at his back, something along the lines of cheating, before his horse picks up speed at his command. 

Soon, only the sound of their horses is heard, and then they’re out of sight and out of hearing. Renjun shakes his head in amusement, stopping his horse from going after them, and he reunites with the rest of the boys. 

“They could have given us a warning,” Chenle comments. 

“Does anyone know where they are headed?” Jaemin asks. 

Donghyuck hums, his horse shifting restlessly as it undoubtedly wants to go off as well. “His Highness must have dared him to see who could reach the waterfall first. It’s straight ahead so there isn’t any danger of Jisung or us getting lost.”

“We should try to catch up to them,” Prince Jeno says. He’s patting his horse’s mane, fingers tangled in the curly hair before he pulls his hand away once more. “We wouldn’t want to be left behind.”

“Good idea,” Renjun agrees. “Does any of you know the path to the waterfall?”

“I do,” Chenle nods. “It isn’t too far, maybe five more minutes at the pace we were going before.”

“Lead the way, then,” Renjun grins, moving his horse to the side to make room for Chenle. 

As Chenle predicted, they aren’t a long way from the waterfall. Renjun hears the sound of the water hitting the lake far before he sees it, the air growing fresher the closer they are to a body of water, the leaves turning greener and the ground becoming more damp. 

It is a beautiful sight. A tall waterfall rises perhaps fifty meters above them, crystal blue water splashing against a lake — it isn’t the largest lake Renjun has seen, not by far, and it is, if he thinks about it, rather small in comparison to the waterfall, but it seems deep, and there is what appears to be a cave behind the curtain of water. 

Nature surrounds the lake, mud giving way to small plants that grow bigger the further they get from the water. Fish swim in and out of sight, and a duck herds her ducklings away from the lake on the other side. A deer laps gently at the water. 

The two horses rest comfortably a little ways inside the treeline, bellies on the ground. Standing on a rock that juts out over the water, Mark and Jisung laugh loudly, barefoot. Renjun sees they discarded their shoes where they hung their riding gear. 

In the blink of an eye, the boys are gone. A loud splash resonates through the quiet atmosphere, and their wet faces resurface from the lake. Prince Mark’s hair is completely splattered to his forehead, water undoubtedly dripping into his eyes, and Jisung brushes his bangs back, resulting in his hair sticking up every which way. 

Renjun stares in shocked silence for a moment. Behind him, none of the boys speak. 

And then Chenle barks out a laugh. It’s unfiltered, unrestrained joy, simple glee at the sight of a Prince and a baker soaking wet as they swim side by side in a lake. It shakes Renjun out of his stupor and laughter tumbles through his lips as well, joining Chenle.  It is a bit unclear who moves first. It is all a blur of them jumping off their horses, taking enough time to tie them to a tree before they’re jumping into the lake right after Mark and Jisung. 

Renjun hits the lake with his chest. The rock, unlike he initially thought, is high above the water, and Renjun’s body tilts forward just as he falls. It burns a little, but the shock of the cold water as opposed to the warm weather distracts him from the pain. 

As he resurfaces, his pants hindering his ability to kick his feet, he shakes his head like a dog in order to rid his face of the excess water. A little ways from him, Jaemin wipes his face dry, only for Donghyuck to splash water at him seconds later. Jaemin stares at him for a full second in silence before retaliating. 

Chenle’s laughter is loud somewhere behind Renjun. Too busy trying to stay afloat even with his heavy clothes dragging him down, he doesn’t have time to register movement near him until he has a full-sized Jisung climbing onto his back — he only knows it’s the boy because he laughs at Renjun’s splutter of surprise as he clings to his neck. 

A bit of lake water gets into his mouth as Renjun regains his balance. Regardless, he doesn’t let go of Jisung, using a hand to hoist him up by the back of his thigh so he’s more comfortable. Jisung’s laugh is loud in his ears, but Renjun doesn’t mind. 

Prince Jeno, Mark and Chenle watch them in amusement. Droplets of water drip down Prince Jeno’s jawline, a sight most distracting, beaten only by the sight of his white shirt glued to his torso. Mark remains mostly underwater, only above from the neck up, and Renjun hopes he stays that way. 

It’s bad enough to have Jaemin in full sight. 

“I hope you’re comfortable up there,” Renjun bites out at Jisung, and he’s glad to hear his voice comes out normal. No sight of his internal struggles in sight. 

“Very,” Jisung confirms. His mirth is audible in his voice. Renjun rolls his eyes.

Jisung stays on his back for a while longer. Renjun, finally used to the extra weight of his wet clothes, paddles around the lake with his little koala attached to him. He stands close to Chenle, providing the boy with the best angle to annoy Jisung, to which Jisung whines loudly. 

Away from them, Mark has somehow roped the others into some sort of battle, with Jaemin perched on Prince Jeno’s shoulders and Donghyuck on Mark’s. Renjun squints, notices the way their shirts all cling to their bodies, and promptly looks away, focusing on Chenle’s face instead. 

Bad idea. 

Chenle’s cackling, the kind of full body laughter that makes his cheeks stretch and his eyes disappear in the folds of his skin, face pink and teeth on full display. It’s too much to look at. 

Renjun doesn’t know where to look. Everywhere his eyes fall, he’s surrounded by… he can’t describe it. His heart races and his head feels fuzzy. He thinks he might be dying. It’s the only explanation he can find, at least the only logical one. 

Then why does it only happen when he looks at them?

Donghyuck gives a bellied laughter after knocking Jaemin off of the Prince’s shoulder, throwing his head back. The wet, tanned skin of his neck glints under the sunlight and for a second, a short yet excruciating second, Renjun’s mind fills with ideas and thoughts he isn’t meant to have. 

**☆☆☆**

Donghyuck loses track of the time they spend playing together in the lake. After the third time he managed to push Jaemin off Jeno’s back, he climbed down from Mark’s shoulders to find Jisung, dragging their youngest into a tug of war as they struggled to capture Prince Renjun’s attention. 

Eventually, however, Donghyuck found himself drifting toward the shore, where he laid down on a rock, face up. He almost rested on the dirt, but then he remembered he will most likely have to wash their clothes later and decided against it. Dirt stains are a pain to remove. 

The sunlight feels glorious on his skin. Donghyuck closes his eyes, and though he can hear them still — there is Jeno, goading Renjun into exploring the small cave behind the waterfall, and Jaemin yelling at Chenle that he will get him for, allegedly, dunking his head underwater — it’s still peaceful here. 

Their own little bubble away from reality. Away from titles and arranged marriages and social casts. Just seven boys having fun together. 

Donghyuck could fall asleep like this. 

He doesn’t, of course. Donghyuck feels all too aware of everything happening around him, and his curiosity wins him over every time he tries to ignore their noise. After a while, he settles for sitting up on the rock, tugging at his shirt because he doesn’t quite enjoy the sensation of wet clothes clinging to his skin. 

It is an entirely different deal when it comes to watching wet clothes clinging to other’s skin. And, for perhaps the first time in a long time, Donghyuck’s eyes stray from Jeno.

First, they linger on Jaemin. Donghyuck has always found Jaemin attractive, of course, he would be a fool to deny what is right in front of him. But ever since Jaemin dropped the attitude he had toward them (for whatever reason, Donghyuck won’t complain) it feels as if Donghyuck is seeing him through different lenses. 

Jaemin smiles radiantly, and having his eyes on him under any circumstance makes shivers crawl down Donghyuck’s spine. 

Prince Renjun carries Jisung on his back again. There is something entirely endearing about the way the Prince seems to forget about his title when Jisung is with him, as if he stops being a royal and is simply another boy. It makes him look realer, more like a person than an unattainable acquaintance. 

Donghyuck forces his eyes to focus on the rock beneath him for a second. It does him no good to dwell on how he feels about them. It will go nowhere. 

“How come you’re sitting all the way over here by yourself?”

Prince Mark hovers above him. He came out of nowhere, successfully snapping Donghyuck out of his reverie, and he’s smiling — a smile Donghyuck was used to seeing years ago, before everything came crashing down. 

“I was just resting,” Donghyuck replies. The words are sticky in his mouth. “Too much excitement.”

“Do you mind if I join you?” Prince Mark asks. 

Donghyuck pats the space beside him. Prince Mark plops down in a motion far too casual for a Prince, but perfectly fitting for them. Their shoulders brush momentarily, then the Prince scoots further apart. Imperceptible, almost, if Donghyuck weren’t keenly aware of everything he does. 

Just how it always has been. 

Donghyuck unglues his tongue from the roof of his mouth to say, “This was a good idea. Coming to the lake, I mean.”

“Right?” Prince Mark smiles. “I figured they would like it. I know you and Jeno used to like coming here with me, so…”

He trails off, seemingly lost in memories. Donghyuck knows very well what he means; he remembers clearly when they were younger, coming to this very same lake (with guards, of course, with His Grace and Sir Taeyong) to swim for hours. Playing with toy swords in the gardens of Jeno’s castle. 

“What I didn’t remember was how uncomfortable wet clothes could be,” Donghyuck adds, tugging at his shirt. He’s starting to feel chilly, too. 

“I think there is a rock, a bit higher than here, where we could put our clothes to dry,” Prince Mark says, twisting his neck to glimpse at their surroundings. 

Donghyuck stands up and calls for the attention of the boys in the lake. “Would any of you like for me to dry their clothes a bit? His Highness and I are going to go look for a higher rock.”

It’s a bit of a hassle. Everyone seems to agree that only drying their shirts might be silly if their pants and socks remain wet, but no one seems willing to undress down to their underwear, and in the end Donghyuck walks away with their socks, Jaemin’s shirt, and Prince Renjun’s jacket he failed to shed before jumping into the water. 

Everyone else insists they can simply stand under the sun for a while once they grow tired of the lake. As if, Donghyuck thinks in amusement. 

He follows Prince Mark a bit higher on the terrain, where they, in effect, find a rock that receives direct sunlight. The surface is hot to the touch, and Donghyuck thinks it won’t take long for their clothes to dry. 

Donghyuck is too distracted laying out the socks, shirt and jacket on the rock to dry to notice Prince Mark undressing in front of him. When he looks up, he’s met with a bare chest and slightly ruffled hair hanging over wide, warm eyes. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever looked away quicker, reigning in a gasp of something. 

“I thought you wanted to dry your clothes?” Prince Mark asks him, casually, as if he weren’t half-naked. 

“Yes.” At least he doesn’t stutter, Donghyuck thinks. He thought he was long past the phase of stuttering around attractive boys, but apparently he was wrong. 

His shirt takes a second to go over his head. Donghyuck blames it on how heavy the fabric is when wet, and ignores how badly his hands are shaking. Next go his pants, and once more, he blames the fabric. 

There is enough room on the rock for them to rest, Donghyuck notices. Their clothes don’t take up more than a quarter of the space, and Donghyuck would much rather wait while lounging around on the rock than to remain standing or lie down on the dirt. 

His plan backfires on him, of course. Donghyuck quickly realises they’re both far bigger than he originally calculated, and their bodies are pressed flushed together. Prince Mark’s skin is warm and slick with water still, and his hair tickles Donghyuck’s cheek.

“I’m sorry, this mustn’t be very comfortable for you,” Donghyuck begins to say, turning his head to the side to look at him. 

He belatedly catches onto the fact that Prince Mark was already looking at him. Unbidden, Donghyuck’s eyes fall to Prince Mark’s lips. 

Something passes between them. Prince Mark’s tongue pokes out to lick at his lips. Donghyuck’s breath is stuck in his throat. He remembers, briefly, the time they were thirteen years old and the Prince was stung by a bee. How he cried and sniffled because it was painful, and how sweetly he had asked Donghyuck to help. 

How Prince Mark’s eyes shone with fascination when Donghyuck kissed the spot on his hand and promised to find a soothing balm for him as quickly as he could. 

The same eyes are staring back at him right now. The boy from his memory is long gone, hardened by age and experience, even if they’re still impossibly young by years alone, but his eyes are the same. Wide, honest. It is impossible for Mark to hide how he feels, not with those eyes. 

Their lips meet in the briefest of kisses. It’s nothing more than a brush, Mark’s lower lip caught between Donghyuck’s own, then Mark’s tongue swiping at Donghyuck’s mouth for a second, and then they’re pulling apart for a moment. 

The second kiss lasts longer, and it’s more felt. Donghyuck’s hand itches to reach out and touch, to hold Mark’s jaw and feel the muscles move under his skin as they kiss, but he fears he might not be able to control himself if he does. Instead, he keeps his hands firmly at his side, fingers curled into fists. 

Mark doesn’t seem to be on the same wavelength. Fingers tangle in the hairs in the back of Donghyuck's neck and pull him closer, lips sliding together in what Donghyuck can only describe as heavenly. 

Perhaps he’s always wanted to kiss Mark. Perhaps he has always carried a torch for him, hidden somewhere in the crevices of his heart, someplace near his love for Jeno. Perhaps he has room for more than one love. 

It doesn’t matter. Not right now, at least, Donghyuck doesn’t think it does. All that matters is that Mark is here, and they’re kissing, and Mark’s mouth tastes like the lake water and the chocolate croissant he had for breakfast and like every daydream of Donghyuck’s teenage years. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lemme know what you think! is there a pov you want to see in the next chapter? ch7 will be very similar to this one in regards to being mostly filler, ch8 will have us back on the angst train ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes. I learned first aid as a child, when I was training to be His Highness’s servant. I will need my other hand to dress the wound, though,” he adds, almost ruefully. 
> 
> Jaemin nods, releasing him. Chenle goes back to work, taking the dry end of his towel and applying disinfectant on it, then carefully cleans the wound. Once more, Jaemin hisses in pain, his whole body going tight, and then relaxes. 
> 
> “Good boy,” Chenle murmurs, patting Jaemin’s thigh briefly before going back to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's finally here! hope you enjoy this chapter <3

For as long as Jisung can remember, Jaemin has always been the same. 

As kids, Jaemin was serious. He took his training very seriously, and he didn’t like to slack off. His room in the staff quarters was always organised, very little personal trinkets here and there— mostly because he didn’t have any personal belongings on the streets, and once he joined the Guard, his things were all issued by the Royal Family. He had a stuffed bunny on his bed and a children’s colouring book, but nothing else. 

Jisung met him first. His father introduced them a week after Jaemin joined the guard, dragging a shy Jisung along by the hand to meet the new kid, and Jisung can see in startling clarity in his head how Jaemin bowed, all skin and bones in spite of the healthy meals he had been eating, hair too thin and eyes sunken, to greet him. 

It was a far cry from the Jaemin he is now. The Jaemin from before lost his family to a tragedy and wandered the streets for weeks until someone found him and brought him to the orphanage, and he didn’t trust easily. The first person he opened up to was Lady Xuanyi, one of the Queen’s ladies, and even then she had to keep her distance. 

When he met the Prince, he took a liking to Jaemin immediately. Jisung heard from another kid how the Prince had insisted Jaemin became his knight, in spite of only knowing each other for a handful of hours. People thought it was strange, but no one said no to the Prince, and so Jaemin began to train for his new post. 

Training wasn’t easy. Jisung often watched him from the sidelines if he wasn’t helping his father in the kitchen or in class, and he kept thinking how he would never survive joining the Guard— he was too skinny and slow to do half the things they did. Besides, he tried lifting a sword once and nearly dropped it on his foot, tip first. 

But he liked to watch Jaemin. His face was a mask of seriousness and determination, eyes hardened by his resolution to become the best knight he could possibly be. And as time passed and he became more accustomed to the movements, the sword no longer awkward in his hands and the shield an extra limb, his confidence grew. His demeanor changed.

The first time Jaemin was allowed outside of the Castle walls with the Prince as his personal knight, the three of them went on a trip to the library to deliver some books the Queen would be donating. More than a dozen guards went with them, because back then Jaemin wasn’t the fearsome and imposing presence he is today, and Jaemin looked ready to drop any second, truly terrified. 

But he did his job. He never left Prince Renjun’s side, nor Jisung’s, and everyone agreed he did very well, on guard and with his eyes peeled at all times. Prince Renjun waited until they were alone once more in his chambers to shake Jaemin’s shoulders and congratulate him excitedly, and Jisung patted his back as well. 

Present day Jaemin hasn’t changed much, not at his core. He’s more relaxed, isn’t constantly on edge when they’re out. His body is all lean muscles and flexible limbs, his hair thick and long thanks to a proper diet and hygiene. 

He still takes his duty very seriously. His sleeping chambers are tidy, and his first priority remains Prince Renjun, Jisung a very close second. He doesn’t trust strangers, and he has a habit of saving up the food he doesn’t eat for the future. 

All of these things make up a small percentage of who Jaemin is as a person, of who Jaemin is to Jisung. He’s also the knight that insisted Jisung learnt how to defend himself, even if he didn’t feel comfortable holding a sword, and the boy that entertained all of Jisung’s ridiculous ideas when they were little kids. 

And he’s an enigma, all the same. Jisung wonders how it’s possible to know someone so intimately, to be so closely tied to them and to who they are, and still have no idea what goes through their head at any given time. 

Like now, for instance. 

They’re in the kitchen, a place more familiar to Jisung than any other room in a palace. It doesn’t matter that they have been staying at Prince Mark’s estate for less than a week, Jisung knows the layout of the kitchen by heart.

It’s late, later than they should probably be awake. When Jaemin shook Jisung awake, a serious as ever expression on his face as he hushed him and urged him to get out of bed, Jisung expected the worst. He thought someone had broken into the estate or that they were in some kind of danger. 

Then, Jaemin smiled. The sort of smile that threatens to split his face in two, taking Jisung’s hand in his smaller one— and the thought did things to Jisung’s brain, knowing his hands are larger than Jaemin’s, that he could hold both of Jaemin’s hands in one of his own even if it would be a tight fit— and dragging him through the long, dark hallways of the house. 

“Where are we going?” Jisung whispered, to no avail. Jaemin wouldn’t reply, too busy grinning and sprinting through the night. 

They stand in the kitchen, leaning over the sink as they eat fresh mango. Jaemin doesn’t even bother explaining why or how he has them, and Jisung knows they didn’t come from the pantry because all the mango they’ve eaten so far has been previously cut.

Well, Jisung won’t complain. Even as juice dribbles down his chin, dripping onto the marble sink and staining a bit of his nightshirt, and even as the mango hairs get stuck between his teeth. He knows those will be a pain to pick out. 

“I appreciate the mango call,” Jisung says. He knows his mouth is a hairy mess of mango, so he keeps his head angled down. “But did you really have to drag me out here in the middle of the night?”

“I found these mangos lying on the grass outside,” Jaemin replies. “They looked too good to pass up! But I knew they would likely bruise before the morning, so I figured it would be best to eat them right away!”

Jisung hums. He doesn’t necessarily believe Jaemin, but he won’t pry. 

They finish their mangos in relative silence, partly because they don’t want to wake anyone by accident, partly because, well, the mangos are just too good to talk. When Jisung’s done, he discards the gutli in the trash along with the skin and opens the tab. 

Washing out your mouth after eating mango like this is a pain. He has to gargle water three times and pick at his teeth until all the hair is gone, but it was worth it. 

However, as he’s about to leave the kitchen, eager to go back to sleep, Jaemin catches his wrist with a low whine. His grip is light, weak enough so that Jisung could break free if he so desired. Jisung stays put.

“Don’t go,” Jaemin nearly pleads with a pout. “Stay.”

Jisung gulps. “It’s really late.”

“It’s past midnight, we still have hours before we have to wake up.”

“Wouldn’t you rather be sleeping?”

“I would rather be with you,” Jaemin counters. Just like that, easy as breathing. Jisung’s breath hitches, and he nods slowly. “I want to spend some time with you, just us.”

“Why?”

“We barely have time to be together,” Jaemin says. His thumb is rubbing circles on Jisung’s skin. “I thought it would be nice to take advantage of this trip for ourselves, too.”

“Okay.”

Jaemin’s smile in response is blinding. He ushers Jisung to a table, where they sit thigh to thigh, and Jaemin regals him with a nonsensical story about something that happened to him in the morning, something about the birds that hang out on the windowsill and bread crumbs. 

It’s a silly anecdote, yet Jisung laughs along with him, frowning when Jaemin sulks and tells him the birds eventually left. Jaemin is just… he’s easily excited sometimes, and he tells the most mundane stories with as much energy as he would tell anything else, and Jisung can’t help it when he’s swept along. 

The only thing that distracts him somewhat is Jaemin’s gaze. Piercing and entirely focused on Jisung, even if he’s the one speaking. All his attention is on him, and Jisung doesn’t know how he feels about it. 

When they do, eventually, drag themselves back upstairs to the room they’re sharing (right next door to Prince Renjun, of course), Jaemin takes hold of Jisung’s hand, locks their fingers together, and doesn’t let go until they’re standing between their two beds. 

“Good night, Jisunggie,” Jaemin says. He sounds almost sad. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“It was fun,” is all Jisung manages to say. 

As their hands drop to their sides, Jaemin swoops in and plants a single kiss on Jisung’s cheek. Jisung doesn’t get much sleep after that.

**☆☆☆**

It’s a sunny day, the perfect day to spend outside. Sitting on a blanket, Prince Renjun reads German poetry to Chenle, who seems absolutely mesmerised by his existence. They haven’t moved from their spot since they sat down, and they’re already halfway through the book. Jaemin suspects they will finish it all before sundown, if they continue at this rate. 

Jisung and Donghyuck disappeared on their horses a while ago, their laughter echoing in the wind as they raced each other through the open fields. Prince Mark shouted a warning at them not to get lost, but Jaemin thinks it fell on deaf ears. 

Nothing will happen to them, though. Jisung is too smart to have an accident, and Donghyuck doesn’t seem the type to allow Jisung to get hurt, so Jaemin has faith in them. 

In the meantime, Jaemin has Prince Jeno flat on his back, hair and clothes disheveled, both of them sweaty and panting, and the tip of Jaemin’s sword held under Prince Jeno’s chin. 

“I think he has you,” Prince Mark comments from the sidelines, leaning on his sword as he watches them. Jaemin beat him roughly ten minutes ago, when he moved on to challenging Prince Jeno.

Said Prince sends his ex fiance a sideways glance, but he doesn’t give up. He appears mad, almost, face flushed red and breath coming out in staccato gasps, but Jaemin knows better: the Prince is calculating the best way to turn the tables on him. 

Jaemin can’t wait to see what he comes up with. 

The three are covered in mud, courtesy to how many times they fell to the ground. Prince Mark ripped the cuffs off his pants, and Jaemin has a small cut on his cheek from the sole time Prince Jeno managed to touch him with his sword and Jaemin didn’t duck on time. 

Jaemin grins salaciously. Prince Jeno’s eyes are drawn to his lips for half a second, pupils blown wide, and Jaemin’s glee only furthers. He has the Prince right where he wants him: vulnerable and at his mercy.

He senses when Prince Jeno’s thighs tense in preparation to move and Jaemin’s stance shifts, pressing him further down onto the grass. Prince Jeno grunts, annoyance flashing in his eyes, and the sword digs deeper into his skin. Not enough to draw blood, but close enough to warn the Prince away from doing anything risky.

“Do you forfeit?” Jaemin taunts. 

“No.”

“How do you plan on getting away?”   
  


The Prince remains quiet, but Jaemin can see the cogs in his brain turning. His sword lies discarded a few feet away, too far for him to reach. 

Jaemin gets more comfortable, making sure he still has the Prince fully pinned underneath him. Something catches his attention as he does so, however, and he knows Prince Jeno knows it, too. 

He doesn’t think his grin has frozen faster before. Though, it returns full force right away, this time for different reasons. This might just be the best day of his life. 

“I forfeit,” Prince Jeno grumbles. He doesn’t sound the least bit happy about it. 

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to find yourself in a, ah, hard situation.”

Ah, if looks could kill…

Shrugging, Jaemin shuffles back, rubbing just so against Prince Jeno (on accident, of course) as he goes, and then he’s back on his feet. Prince Jeno stands up on a heartbeat and retrieves his sword, pretending to be too busy cleaning off the mud and leaves stuck on the blade to look at Jaemin. 

Jaemin turns to look at Prince Mark and smiles. “Care for a second round?”

Prince Mark barks out a laugh and agrees whole-heartedly, falling into position right away. 

They have different tactics. Where Prince Jeno is clearly trained, each of his movements thought-out and calculated, Prince Mark moves on instinct. Neither is an easy opponent, either: Prince Jeno knows how to read Jaemin’s movements, though he becomes predictable, and Prince Mark isn’t very technical, but it’s almost impossible to know what he will do next. 

Prince Mark takes a step forward and swings his sword in a wide arc. Jaemin grins as he ducks to avoid his blade, feeling the adrenaline course through his body. They’re not wearing any sort of protective gear, not even a shield to protect themselves; the danger makes things more exciting. 

Jaemin scrapes his knee on the way down, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. It stings a bit, yes, but he has more pressing matters to tend to, such as Prince Mark’s gleeful jab of his sword. 

From the sideline, Prince Jeno sits on the ground with his knees pulled to his chest to salvage his dignity. Jaemin makes eye contact with him for the briefest of seconds, and his attention goes with the wind, only coming back to planet Earth when Prince Mark nearly slices the skin on his arm. 

“Woah!” Prince Mark shouts in surprise, immediately dropping his sword to the ground. “Are you alright? Jaemin, I am so sorry, I thought you were going to move—!”

“I’m okay,” Jaemin winces. It’s not exactly true; he holds his arm with his other hand, feeling the blood pool underneath his fingertips and trail down to the ground. It stings, and it hurts a lot, but he hates the look on Prince Mark’s face. “I should’ve ducked, I’m sorry.”

“No, what? No! Jaemin, oh my God, this is my fault, I’m so sorry.”

Jaemin shakes his head, offering him a smile. “It’s alright. Although, I could use a sewing kit? And maybe some gauze, if you have any.”

“Yes! Yes, of course, follow me—”

“I’ll take him.”

Chenle appears out of nowhere at their side, taking Jaemin’s unharmed arm in hand and guiding him gently toward the manor. Prince Mark gapes like a fish after them, no matter how many times Jaemin assures him he’s alright. 

Just as he’s about to disappear around the corner, Jaemin catches Prince Renjun’s eye. The Prince is clearly concerned, gripping his book tightly, but there’s something else in his eyes that Jaemin can’t pinpoint. 

It’s silly, but Jaemin feels as if he  _ knows  _ why Jaemin was distracted. 

Well, no time to dwell on such things now. He has an open wound to care for. 

**☆☆☆**

The staff keeps a first-aid kit in the kitchen in case of an accident. Once Chenle has made sure Jaemin is sat on the chair, he pulls out the kit and rummages through its contents in search for something to use to clean the wound. 

Chenle finds a half-full bottle of disinfectant at the bottom of the crate, and a roll of gauze with enough fabric left to dress the wounds. He picks a clean kitchen towel off the rack and runs it under the tap for a moment, then returns to Jaemin’s side.

“Let me see,” Chenle instructs. Jaemin grimaces but does as he’s told, removing his hand from the wound. “Alright, it doesn’t seem too big. I’m going to clean the area before actually tending to the wound, okay? It might hurt a little, but you can squeeze my hand if you want.”

Jaemin hesitates for a second, and then he takes Chenle’s offered hand. Chenle waits until he’s sure that he’s settled down before gently dabbing at his arm, careful not to press down on the gash. Jaemin hisses, tightening his grip on Chenle’s finger, then forces himself to let go. 

“It’s okay, you can keep squeezing,” Chenle says distractedly, too busy cleaning off the excess blood. 

After a beat or two, Jaemin takes back Chenle’s hand. For another minute, Chenle cleans the skin around the wound, making sure he will have a clear visual while he works, and then he nods in satisfaction. 

“You don’t need stitches,” he declares happily. “You bled a lot, but the wound isn’t as deep as I thought it was. I think dressing it in gauze should be enough, but if you’re still bleeding tonight we might have to take you to the village doctor.”

“You know how to stitch wounds?”

“Yes. I learned first aid as a child, when I was training to be His Highness’s servant. I will need my other hand to dress the wound, though,” he adds, almost ruefully. 

Jaemin nods, releasing him. Chenle goes back to work, taking the dry end of his towel and applying disinfectant on it, then carefully cleans the wound. Once more, Jaemin hisses in pain, his whole body going tight, and then relaxes. 

“Good boy,” Chenle murmurs, patting Jaemin’s thigh briefly before going back to his work. 

Once the wound is clean, Chenle picks up the roll of gauze, a pair of scissors, and the roll of medical tape left at the bottom. It isn’t much, but it will do. Jaemin stays still as Chenle prepares the material, wrapping the gauze around his firm bicep and holding it in place with a finger while he cuts pieces of medical tape to keep it together. 

All in all, it doesn’t take him much time to finish. Chenle leans back and admires his work with satisfaction, patting Jaemin’s wrist gently to let him know he’s finished. 

“Thank you,” Jaemin says slowly. As if his voice were caught in his throat, but not quite. “You’re… you seem good with your hands.”

Chenle beams. “It was nothing. I’m always happy to help.”

Jaemin nods. Chenle tilts his head in consideration, wondering what has made Jaemin retreat into his shell again. And here Chenle thought they had made progress in their relationship…

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable,” Chenle prods. He would hate to think he somehow caused Jaemin to go back to his past self, when he had been so happy and carefree the last couple of days. 

“You did nothing wrong,” Jaemin denies quickly, stopping long enough to make eye contact. Cool grey eyes linger on Chenle’s face before they go back to the floor in an uncharacteristic show of shyness. Chenle’s eyebrow goes up on its own.

“Well, I hope it didn’t hurt,” Chenle says. “Make sure not to bump your arm into anything for a few days, and avoid any sort of strenuous exercises that might hinder the healing process. That includes, uh…”

He trails off, making an aborted motion with his hand. His message gets across, however, and he witnesses Jaemin’s face turning scarlet red as he nods, not daring to look at him. Chenle suppresses a smile at his demeanor and nods along, picking up the remains of his impromptu medical room and putting everything in its place. 

“We should go back outside,” Chenle suggests. “The others must be worried about you.”   
  


“I think I hear Donghyuck and Jisung’s horses,” Jaemin murmurs. 

In fact, they did return while they were in the kitchen. As they step back on the garden, Prince Renjun rushes to them, concern etched on his features, with Jisung hot on his heels. The two of them surround Jaemin as they check him over and over, making sure he’s alright. 

Chenle makes a beeline for his Prince. Mark is chewing on his bottom lip, brows pulled low in regret as he visibly debates with himself if he should approach him or not. 

“He’s alright,” Chenle says in lieu of a greeting. “It’s more than a scratch, but it isn’t deep. I cleaned and bandaged the wound, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” Mark sighs. 

**☆☆☆**

They see the dark clouds rolling in the distance roughly an hour before the storm starts. A light drizzle and cold winds turn into a hail that bends the trees beyond their windows and makes the wood inside the house creak.

Jeno takes a careful glance through the binds in his assigned bedroom. In spite of the early hour, the sky is pitch black. Perhaps a bit naively, he wonders if the glass would crack under the force of the storm. 

Long before it began to rain, Chenle took Donghyuck to the cellar under the pretense of looking for a bottle of wine they could have during dinner, and Jeno hopes they’re deep enough that Donghyuck can’t hear the thunder. 

“I’m sure the storm will cease soon.”

Jeno looks at Jisung. He’s arranging the chess set on the wooden table for them to play, the flame of the candles flickering weakly as wind sneaks through the cracks. A set of tea lies on the ottoman beside him to cool off before they drink it. 

“I will have to disagree with you on that regard,” Jeno says. He takes a final look out the window before joining his friend at the table. “It doesn’t seem like a simple rain.”

“I guess you’re right,” Jisung admits. Thunder rumbles above them, making the house shake to its roots. 

They settle down to play together. Jeno has always loved chess— he learned how to play as a child, sitting on his father’s lap as the King explained the rules to him and Jeno, still too small to understand that you shouldn’t put random things in your mouth, kept trying to swallow the ceramic pieces, much to his mother’s dismay.

Jisung is a worthy opponent. He thinks every move carefully before executing it, his chin resting on his fist as he stares at the board in clear concentration. A frown forms on his face as he does so, tongue poking out of his mouth.

His eyes light up when he figures out what he will do next. His fingers wrap delicately around the pieces, as if he’s afraid he might break them if he uses too much strength. 

“What would you say would be an appropriate gift for your Prince?”

Jisung drops the piece he was moving in shock. Jeno smiles sheepishly, helping him right the knocked over pieces, and adds, “My apologies, that was rather abrupt.”

“You want to buy a gift for His Highness?” Jisung asks. 

“His birthday is soon, is it not? It makes sense to buy something for him.”

“Right. I think you might do better asking him personally? I am not very good at giving presents…”

“You are his friend, no?” Jeno tilts his head. “He always speaks so highly of you, and he is very comfortable in your presence. As his best friend, I thought you would be the best option to ask for assistance.”

“I’m his best friend?”

Jeno pauses, taking in Jisung’s scandalised expression. He allows himself the room to smile indulgently at him. “Yes, I believe you are. You and Jaemin alike.”

This seems to be brand news for Jisung, his mouth moving soundlessly for a moment before he clamps his lips shut, eyes wide in surprise. Jeno grins. 

“His Highness… he likes flowers, as you know,” Jisung says slowly. “I think he would like something related to nature.”

“Nature,” Jeno muses. “Hmm, I’ll see what I can think of. Thank you, Jisung.”

“I hope that was helpful. To be frank, I am not the best at coming up with gifts, even for my closest friends. It isn’t my forte.”

“I think your suggestion was perfectly thoughtful.”

Jisung ducks his head, blushing. The rosy blush in his cheeks distracts Jeno for all of two seconds, when a particularly harsh wind has the room shaking, and the candles flicker out, plunging the room in darkness.

“Oh,” Jeno says. 

“I will try to find the candles,” Jisung offers quickly. 

His chair squeaks as he stands up. His footsteps are heavy as he walks around the room, and he hits almost every piece of furniture as he goes. Finally, a small flame lights up half of Jisung’s cute face. 

“I didn’t expect the wind would be quite so strong,” Jeno says. “Much less strong enough to blow out the candles.”

“It’s getting chilly, too. We should light a fire, maybe in the drawing room? It seems to be the warmest in the house.”

“After you.”

They traipse through the manor with careful steps. Jisung leads the way, holding the candle a little ways away from his body in order to see what’s ahead of them, and Jeno follows closely. Jisung is right— the manor is growing colder as the minutes pass, cold enough that Jeno sees his breath waft in front of his face. 

“Should we find the others?” Jisung suggests. “I can’t imagine the basement or the rest of the house is any warmer.”

“We should, after we’ve warmed up a bit.”

They reach the drawing room shortly. Jeno takes the candle from Jisung and lights the way for him as the boy searches for a few logs on the pile by the hearth, throwing them into the fireplace with nimble strength.

“Will you be alright here?” Jeno asks. At Jisung’s affirmative hum, he adds. “I will get going, then. I won’t be long.”

The hallways seem much darker when Jeno walks through them alone. He sees elongated shadows that move when they shouldn’t, and more than once he spooks himself as he bumps into the numerous drawings of Prince Mark’s family members.

“My apologies, Queen Irene,” Jeno mutters, heart racing. “But you are much more gentle looking in person than you are in painting.”

Just as Jeno thinks he’s grown used to the random faces that pop up in his vision, he runs into Prince Renjun.

“Agh!”

They both exclaim in surprise (and some fright) as they nearly topple each other. Jaemin catches his Prince before he falls to the ground, while Jeno stabilises himself by holding onto the wall. He almost knocks down another painting, but he thinks it would be justified. 

“Your Highness,” Jaemin greets. “We were looking for you and Jisung.”

“We moved to the drawing room a few minutes ago, when the storm blew out our candles. I was on my way to fetch you and the rest, it’s warmer there.”

“I certainly hope so,” Prince Renjun sighs. “We were freezing downstairs.”

“Well, Jisung is waiting for you there,” Jeno says. “Why don’t you go ahead and meet with him? I will fetch the others.”

They part after a few more words. Prince Renjun is shivering from the cold, and Jaemin, though he holds himself with his usual poise, has a red nose and blue lips. Jeno doesn’t want to hold them back any longer, and he certainly doesn’t want them to be cold. 

He reaches the second landing when he hears someone call his name. Jeno halts in his step, searching the space around him with his eyes. He can’t see anything beyond his nose, the manor too dark even with his feeble candle, and he’s man enough to admit he’s a little bit spooked.

“Hello?” he says softly. 

“In here.”

Jeno’s eyes narrow. He follows the voice to the end of the hallway, where he peeks into a broom closet. Two hands pull him inside, and Jeno already knows who this is.

“This isn’t very polite of you, Hyuck.”

“I hate the dark, and I hate storms, and I hate the cold,” Donghyuck rambles. His fingers twist into the fabric of Jeno’s shirt, voice shaky as if he were trying not to cry.

“How long have you been in here?” Jeno asks. 

“A while. Chenle left to check up on Mark and I… I just needed someplace to hide.”

Jeno knows Donghyuck isn’t afraid of anything tangible. He also knows Donghyuck prefers small spaces when he feels scared.

“I was worried about you. The storm has gotten quite strong, huh?”

As he says so, thunder rumbles outside. Donghyuck doesn’t make a sound, but he burrows closer, as if trying to hide within Jeno. The Prince lets him, rubbing his back in soothing circles to communicate that he’s here. 

“Would you like to join the others in the drawing room?” Jeno suggests. “There is a fire there.”

“I can’t hold you there,” Dognhyuck mumbles. Jeno can hear the pout in his voice. 

“No,” Jeno sighs. “But we could hold hands. It’s dark enough there that they won’t notice a thing.”

Donghyuck doesn’t reply. He stays where he is for another moment or two, breathing each other’s air while Donghyuck shivers and Jeno tries to calm him, and then he nods, pulling back. 

“Alright,” Donghyuck nods. And though his voice is thick with tears, it doesn’t waver. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

**☆☆☆**

Three days after the storm and they’re still stuck inside the manor. The servants that left for their homes that day have been unable to return due to muddied roads, fallen trees and overflowing rivers, and so they haven’t left, either. 

Renjun sighs, chin propped on his fist as he gazes out the window. His room is on the top floor, overlooking the mountains beyond the property and the garden, and he could usually glimpse the smallest hints of goats and other animals in the distance. Now, he can’t see much farther than the garden. 

Jaemin traces the room behind him, close to losing his mind. He’s not fond of staying indoors for too long, Renjun knows, and he isn’t having the best time at the moment. Jisung, on the other hand, seems completely unbothered. He’s been napping all afternoon. 

“Stop pacing,” Renjun sighs. He doesn’t turn around, though, following a bird’s path with his eyes. He thinks it’s a hummingbird, but he can’t be sure from this distance. “You’ll wear a hole on the floor.”

A pause. Then, Jaemin approaches him, taking a seat next to him on the windowsill. His shirt is rumpled around the collar, perhaps from playing with it all the time. His hair is also ruffled, longer that he would normally wear it, and it falls over his eyes when he sits down. 

“Why are you so antsy?” Renjun asks him. Below them, Prince Jeno and Chenle cross the garden to reach the small farm, hoping to rescue the vegetables growing there. “It’s only been three days.”

“Three days too long,” Jaemin grumbles. “I don’t like it.”

“We’re safe here. There’s food and water and logs to keep the fire burning. We will be okay, Jaemin.”

Jaemin sighs, a perfect imitation of Renjun’s own sigh. “I know that. I’m not scared something will happen to us. It’s just annoying.”

Renjun hums, nodding. He can understand that much, to an extent. He isn’t bored, nor annoyed, and he’s enjoyed sitting by the fire and reading the novels he brought for the trip, even reading some of the books in the studio at the manor, but he can see things from Jaemin’s side, too. 

“Did you hear about Jisung’s plans for tonight?” Renjun asks. “He wants to make cake. Just cake.”

“That sounds like fun. If he even wakes up in time to bake.”

Renjun smiles. “Bad weather makes him sleepy.”

“Like a baby.”

They settle into comfortable silence. Renjun glances at Jaemin’s form every once in a while, but other than playing with his shirtsleeves, he doesn’t seem to fidget. Good, Renjun thinks. At least he can stay calm like this. 

Donghyuck’s voice drifts up toward them from the garden. He’s calling out to his Prince, and though Renjun can’t quite make out all his words, he understands he’s chastising the Prince for going out in the rain without wearing a coat. 

“He will catch a cold,” Renjun murmurs, following Prince Jeno as he jogs back to the manor, clothes soaked through and still smiling his usual grin. Donghyuck meets him halfway with a large coat, reproachful scowl lost in the mirth dancing in his eyes. Chenle yells something about Donghyuck not caring about him, and then Mark shouts something back, urging him to go inside as well. 

Renjun sneaks another look at his knight. Jaemin’s eyes are trained on Donghyuck, until he disappears inside the manor. There’s something Renjun can’t quite make out in his gaze. 

Or, rather, something he doesn’t quite know if he wants to recognise.

“Did something happen between you two?” Renjun asks. It’s the same question he asked months ago, but now he thinks the answer will be different. Jaemin makes a sound of confusion, so he elaborates, “You and Donghyuck, I mean. Back home, you seemed to dislike him, until they left. Ever since we arrived at Prince Mark’s estate, you two have been attached to the hip.”

It isn’t jealousy, Renjun tells himself, over and over, hoping he will believe it. Eventually. 

“Nothing happened,” Jaemin shakes his head. Renjun might be delusional, but he thinks he hears disappointment. “We had an argument at the Castle and he was angry with me. I apologised before they left. I suppose Donghyuck chose to forgive me.”

“Did you?”

Jaemin startles in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Did you forgive yourself? For whatever it is that you said?” Renjun asks. “I’m only asking because sometimes you look at him like a lost puppy, so the argument must have been because of something you said.”

For a second, Jaemin bristles with annoyance. Renjun braces himself for Jaemin to snap at him, but it never comes. Instead, Jaemin exhales sharply through his nose and turns back to the window, staring gloomily at the mountains beyond. 

“No, I haven’t. It was a horrible assumption.”

“May I ask what happened?”

Jaemin visibly debates with himself. Renjun waits with bated breath, thinking that perhaps Jaemin will tell him it’s private. But he’s smart enough to connect two and two, and he’s fairly certain that whatever happened between Jaemin and Donghyuck had something to do with the secret Jaemin refused to divulge to him. 

And if it is, then Renjun deserves to know. 

“If I tell you…” Jaemin hesitates. “I won’t be telling you as your knight, Renjun. I will tell you as your friend.”

Renjun blinks. “Alright.”

“And as your friend,” Jaemin continues, “I ask you not to tell him I told you. You must keep it a secret.”

“You’re scaring me,” Renjun protests. 

He expects Jaemin to tell him not to be afraid, it isn’t anything awful. But all he does is press his lips into a thin line and stare at something behind Renjun’s head, as if steeling himself for the conversation. 

“The first night the Princes spent at the Castle,” Jaemin says, “the night of the feast. I went to Prince Jeno’s chambers to ask something— and trust me, I don’t remember what it was anymore— and instead I found them together.”

“Found who together?” Renjun’s throat feels parched. 

“Jeno and Donghyuck. In bed.”

Static rings in his ears. Renjun must spend a full minute staring at Jaemin in surprise, not speaking, because Jaemin frowns and waves a hand in front of his face. 

“I hope I didn’t kill you with shock.” Renjun shakes his head. “Are you angry?”

Truthfully, he doesn’t know how he feels. Jeno isn’t his, he knows. They are simply getting to know each other, and Renjun knows he has to choose between him and Mark for the marriage. 

And Renjun knows he likes Jeno. He doesn’t know how far his affections go, but he isn’t a fool. He knows the butterflies in his stomach mean something more than friendship. What confuses him is how he feels regarding Mark, as well. 

But he thought he would have time to decide, to figure out his feelings before making a decision. He didn’t think he would have such news dropped on his lap. 

If he wants to be honest, he supposes he isn’t too surprised. He’s seen how they are together, he’s heard them talk of each other, and, well. 

What’s surprising is that he isn’t angry at the idea, or rather the knowledge, that they have an affair. Nor is he worried about what it means for their possible engagement. He’s more concerned about how they might feel, knowing Jeno is meant to charm Renjun into a marriage. 

“Thank you for telling me,” he manages at last. On the floor below them, Chenle’s laughter rings out, followed by Donghyuck’s. They’re loud enough to wake poor Jisung from his slumber. “I really appreciate your honesty.”

“What are you going to do?” Jaemin asks. “You’re supposed to marry Prince Jeno.”

Renjun shakes his head, letting it thud gently against the window. “I don’t know,” he confesses. “My marriage to him isn’t set in stone. I could always,” he halts.

‘You could always what?”

“Nothing,” Renjun shakes his head. “But that doesn’t explain your argument with him.”

Jaemin sighs. “As it appears, Prince Jeno and Prince Mark were engaged to each other in the past. Prince Mark called off the engagement and he never explained why. I… made the assumption that it was because of Donghyuck.”

Renjun stares at him in surprise. 

“It wasn’t, I might add. Donghyuck swears they weren’t… involved at the time, and I believe him. But he was hurt by my assumption, and he ran out before I could apologise. I don’t think I’ve ever actually said the words to him.”

“You haven’t apologised yet?”

“No. You seem awfully alright with the news,” Jaemin notes. 

“I don’t think any of it has sunk in,” Renjun admits. “I will be sure to let you know before I go running for the hills, however.”

“I would appreciate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cat's out of the bag.... what do you think renjun will do next?

**Author's Note:**

> please tell me what you think!!! and feel free to ask me questions or send your feedback on my [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/doitsushine92) or you can talk to me on [ my twitter](https://twitter.com/doitsushine92)
> 
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